


White Collar

by PAPERSK1N



Category: Rooster Teeth/Achievement Hunter/Funhaus RPF
Genre: Agoraphobia, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, But fun stuff too!!!!, Codependency, Drug Use, Drunk Gavin, F/M, Fraud, Gavin is just really really really sad, Heavy Angst, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Implied/Referenced Sex, Implied/Referenced Suicide, LSD, Lindsay is a good friend, Loneliness, M/M, Marijuana, Mavin, Michael-centric, Multi, Mutual Pining, New York City, No Major Character Death, Pining, Ray and Ryan are total stoners/junkies, Raywood, Recreational Drug Use, Sad, Sad Gavin, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, White Collar Crime, rich people problems, slutty Gavin, very minor Juggey
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-12
Updated: 2017-04-11
Packaged: 2018-09-23 21:12:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,855
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9677666
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PAPERSK1N/pseuds/PAPERSK1N
Summary: Gavin is twenty-one years old when his multi-millionaire investment banker father, David Free is arrested for over forty-six counts of embezzlement, thirty-eight counts of fraud, fourteen counts of insider trading, twelve counts of money laundering, eight counts of forgery and a Ponzi scheme. His mother is long dead. His dad is sent immediately to maximum-security prison.Gavin is just a rich kid used to having everyone else in the world doing things for him, and within one afternoon he finds himself completely alone. But the AH Crew can't have that.Michael is just a dirt-poor electrician from New Jersey who somehow stumbled into the eclipse that was Gavin Free when they met as kids. Now, he finds himself in the position of Gavin's number one emotional support cushion as he recovers from a setback that has the power to turn his entire world on it's head. He'll drop everything, do anything to make his best friend whole again. He's doing his best. He can only ever do his best.





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> New fic! I've been working on this one for a few months, and I really hope you guys like it. IDK, I just feel like people aren't as active in the RageHappy fandom as we used to be? Hope you guys are still out there, and hope you enjoy this one! Updates every Sunday :)

PART ONE

 

 

If he could’ve described the apartment in one word, it had to be prodigal.

The walls were papered in rich reds and soft creams throughout, solid dark wood running in panels up the sides and across the skirting. On those walls sat lavish mirrors guided in genuine gold and expensive paintings which were framed in the same deep wood as the panelling. Why Gavin’s parents had chosen a wood that was almost _black_ in colour, Michael had never understood. Paired with the rich red carpets and the heavy dark brown curtains, the apartment had always to him felt unnecessarily _dark_. It was beautiful, of course, and lavish by design- but surrounded by the other high rises in New York, come five or six o’clock the place would become devoid of all light bar artificials, and a dingy feeling would settle over the place. It was strange, for somewhere so expensive and extravagant to feel so dull, but at night time, the place could become almost eerie.

Gavin, for some reason, had loved this part of his childhood home. Michael couldn’t count the times he’d come over to find his best friend sat lurking in the dark, playing a few of his father’s expensive vinyl’s and enjoying a cigarette or glass of expensive liquor alone. Due to business, his father often stayed in hotel rooms in closer proximity to his office, so Gavin’s home soon because exactly that: _Gavin’s_. Aside from the maid, an old withering woman named Mabel who had been serving their family for more than forty years, Gavin lived more or less completely by himself growing up. Over the years, Michael had done his best to ensure he didn’t get too lonely.

“Geoffrey!” Gavin had a golden metal crown, an old ornamental piece that had belonged to his mother many years ago sat askew on his head as he stood on the coffee table, gesturing at Geoff with the iron poker from the fireplace set. The shirt of his suit was tucked neatly into his trousers, and his dinner Jacket clung to his body more fitting than most gloves did to cold hands- but the satin bowtie that should’ve been tied around his neck was resting around his shoulders, one end slightly longer than the other over his chest. Gavin always had a penchant for being extravagantly dressed, and even at the age of twenty-one, was rarely seen out of a full three-piece suit. Geoff was much the same, and Michael assumed it had something to do with their vigorously policed backgrounds in wealthy, well-known families. Gavin’s father had owned an investment banking firm that carried over from England to the United States and beyond, worldwide. Geoff’s father was the head of an exclusive airline.

Michael’s dad had fixed TV’s his whole life and his mother had worked in the grocery store that _her_ father had owned since he was a young man. Michael showed up to their little _AH_ parties in jeans and sneakers and a t-shirt, but it had never made him feel uncomfortable, despite Gavin’s insistence on formal attire. Ray took a similar stand to him likely due to their similar, unimpressive backgrounds- never seen out of an oversized hoodie and a pair of cargo shorts. Jack and Ryan planted themselves more or less in the middle ground to go with their middle-class backgrounds. Expensive jeans, or occasionally, pressed trousers. Casual button up shirts. Expensive sneakers.

Gavin’s Union-Jack print converse (the only informal attire Michael ever saw him in) squeaked as he chased Geoff around the room before jumping, two-footed, up onto the coffee table like a ninja. He pointed at Geoff with the poker and yelled his name triumphantly, the crown slipping slightly so it was askew on his head. It matched his crooked smirk, as Geoff fell to his knees and feigned submission.

“King Gavin! I beg of you… spare me!”

“Michael! My Liege!” Gavin whirled around, shoes squeaking on the Oakwood again. He extended his arm, holding the poker out so it brushed the tip of Michael’s nose, and grinned. “Put him out of his misery.”

“Geoff Ramsey, you are being sentenced today by the court of King Gavin for the ultimate crime. Treason!” Michael yelled, walking over to shake his friend by the shoulders.

“I didn’t do it!”

“-No time for lies!” Michael cut him off swiftly. “Your crime is punishable by only one thing! You are hereby sentenced to reside in the _dump hole_ , forever!”

Gavin was laughing and squealing like a child as Michael performed for him, waving the poker like it was a mighty sword and squeak-squeak-squeaking his sneakers against the table. Ray and Ryan were sat together on the sofa, smirking up at them and rolling their eyes fondly. Jack was over by the record player, leafing through the song collections stacked in boxes by the door. Under Gavin’s “ruling”, they’d only been listening to _Hall & Oates_ for the last hour.

Before Michael could complete his charade by dragging Geoff by the ear and tossing him into dungeon- which was actually the maids closet- until he could complete his “punishment” of chugging three beers, his phone began to ring. Gavin rolled his eyes but nodded, granting Geoff a pardon from the game so he could stand up and take the call. Geoff glanced at the screen, and didn’t bother leaving the room before answering, so Michael could only assume it wasn’t all-that important. He grinned at Gavin, who smirked back, iron poker now rested over his shoulder casually like a golf club. His free hand rose, straightening the crown on his head.

“That was just Joel.” Geoff explained, after quickly ending his conversation. He caught eyes with Jack across the room, before glancing at the floor. “They’re all down at some bar, said we could come if we wanted.”

“Well… we’re all having fun here- aren’t we?” Gavin asked, stilling. Geoff swallowed thickly, and opened his mouth as if to agree- but Jack beat him to it. “Maybe we should go.” He said, and Michael bit his lip. “Might be fun. Haven’t seen those guys in forever.”

“We don’t have to go-” Geoff tried to interject, but Gavin shook his head, waving the poker as he swung it back down to his side, dropping it on the table. “No.” he said, hopping down from the table. “It’s fine. Go.”

“Gavin-”

“-Just go.” Gavin pushed past Geoff, bumping him backwards slightly as he rushed out of the room. In silence, the remaining five listened to his quiet footsteps, until they heard the door to the bathroom slam closed and the lock click shut. Geoff hung his head and sighed, and Michael turned to glare at Jack, who at least had the gall to look guilty.

“You know he’s… fragile, at the moment Jack.” Ryan sighed from the couch, running his hands up and down Ray’s forearm absentmindedly. “You know going out is the last thing we wants right now.”

“I know.” Jack replied quietly. “But… guys, it’s been weeks. He hasn’t left this fucking apartment- and we’ve barely left _him_. We have these little parties where we dick about and get drunk but… does nobody want to acknowledge that this behaviour of his _isn’t healthy_.”

Michael sighed, sharing a brief look with Geoff. “Look.” He said. “Gavin is having a pretty rough fucking time at the moment. We all know that. So we can’t just… _expect_ him to switch tomorrow morning and go back to normal.” He looked at Jack. “It’s gonna be a long time before that happens.”

“If ever.” Geoff added. The group was quiet.

“You guys should go.”

They all turned and looked at Michael, and he could read the expression on each of their faces. They wanted to go to the bar- of course they all did. It had been weeks since any of them had been on a real night out, and living in New York City, that was almost as ludicrous as not breathing air for a day. However, they all felt guilty. They knew that Gavin couldn’t really be left on his own.

“I’ll stay.” Michael continued. “Honestly. You guys go. I’ll take care of this.”

“You sure you’ll be okay?”

Michael looked up at Ryan as he was approached, a warm heavy hand resting on his arm. He nodded his head. “Of course.” He said, walking towards the door. He stilled in the doorway. “It’s _Gavin_. I know him better than anyone.”

Out of them all, Michael was Gavin’s best and second-oldest friend. They’d grown up together, meeting in elementary school where they’d formed an instant bond over Gavin’s amusement at Michael’s anger. For a six-year-old with suspected ODD, it was odd to meet another kid who wasn’t afraid of him. Gavin had shown a range of emotions- but never fear, when he looked in Michael’s eyes. After elementary school, Gavin had moved on to an expensive private school in the city centre, and Michael moved back to New Jersey with his family. He and Gavin had however, by some miracle, remained friends. Gavin’s parents had seen their child struggle making friends throughout his life, so Michael supposed they assumed if he’d met one kid who didn’t want to throttle him, they may as well do their best to prolong the friendship.

From that first day in the recess yard, when Michael yelled at Gavin for tripping onto him and Gavin had laughed jovially in his face without fear or repercussion, they had been best friends. That was sixteen years ago, and Michael still couldn’t say confidently that he truly knew who Gavin was, past the suits and the smirks and the money. And now that that had all changed, and Gavin had crumbled alongside his father’s shady empire, Michael found himself navigating this whole new, vulnerable version of his best friend. He wasn’t sure if he liked it so much.

“Gavin, you gonna let me in?” he’d been knocking for fifteen minutes or so, but Gavin hadn’t answered. Michael knew he was in there, because the shower was still running and every few minutes or so, he could make out the clinking of a bottle against a glass. Michael sighed, Gavin was probably on the scotch again. His drinking had grown out of hand after the recent developments, and they were all fairly worried about it, Geoff included- and he was the heaviest drinker out of them all.

With the knowledge that Gavin had almost no intention of letting him in, Michael fumbled in his dusty pockets until he found a few paperclips- which after some crafty bending, he managed to slot into the bathroom lock. It was a dirty trick, one Ryan had taught him a few years ago when they’d first met. Michael snickered to himself as he got to work on the lock, recalling the day he’d met the self-professed “Mad King.” Ryan had been the last addition to their tight-knit group, introduced by Gavin one day as “the guy who could get things done.” Both had always been cryptic on how exactly they knew each other, but Ray had revealed to Michael in confidence that Ryan was the guy Gavin used to pay to break into his father’s office and other, unrelated places back when he’d gone through his kleptomaniac ‘phase’. Gavin had acquired countless pointless trinkets from his father’s extensively barred office, but he had never told Michael how, nevertheless why. At the time, Michael didn’t know why Gavin had such a fascination with stealing things, when he was rich enough to just buy anything he wanted- but then, as the years went on and Gavin never really grew entirely out of the _phase_ , Michael realised that Gavin just wanted to know what it felt like to have something that wasn’t provided for you on a silver platter.

The lock clicked and Michael rose back to his feet, taking a deep breath before closing his fist over the handle. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but is certainly wasn’t Gavin, slumped in the corner of the shower with a half-empty bottle of liquor tipped over beside him. The glass he had been drinking on was still half-full, and he took half a sip as he locked eyes with Michael, who walked into the room slowly. The shower wasn’t on anymore, but Gavin was dripping wet- hair sticking in clumps to his forehead, framing his dark gaze. His shirt would’ve been transparent, had it not been made from a hundred percent Egyptian cotton, which stuck to his skin in patches. He had discarded his dinner Jacket and left it balled up in a wet clump in the corner of the stall, and his converse had been removed and neatly placed outside the shower, dry as bone.

Michael sighed, toeing off his own sneakers before stepping into the moist shower and sitting down beside his best friend. Gavin sniffed, looking away from Michael and off into nothing particular at all, but the ruse didn’t work. Michael could see the red rimming his eyes. Gavin had been crying.

“Talk to me, Gavin.”

Gavin shrugged his shoulders. “S’just shit.” He said. “All of it. Complete and utter _shite_.”

“You gotta be more specific dude.” Michael replied. Gavin placed his glass down on the marble floor, and after a second or two of consideration, he tipped it over, and the two watched as the brown liquid ran down into the drain.

“My dad killed himself in his cell yesterday.” Gavin said, suddenly. “Ripped a bunch of his bedsheets apart and used them to hang himself. I got the call this morning.”

Without saying anything else, Gavin rested his sopping head on Michael’s shoulder, and in return, Michael slotted their hands together. A familiar feeling of dread sat in his gut- the same feeling that had sent shivers through him on the dreaded afternoon when the initial news broke about Gavin’s father. Michael could remember the day in vivid detail, despite it being over two months ago. He’d been working, a small job with his boss replacing a few busted electric meters on a suburban street. He’d been testing the lights in a plump middle-aged lady’s kitchen when his phone rang- _Geoff Calling_ illuminating the screen in bold. Michael remembered frowning, because Geoff _never_ called him in the middle of the day. Immediately, he had had the feeling that something must’ve been very wrong, and coincidentally enough, his first thought had gone to Gavin.

“Turn on the news!” Geoff yelled, before even bothering with the usual formalities. Michael snatched the remote to the woman’s TV off the counter, and turned it to CNN without hesitation, despite his boss demanding to know what the _fuck_ he thought he was doing. In that second, when he set eyes on the headline ( _FREE MONEYMANAGEMENT CEO – DAVID FREE ARRESTED AMONGST OTHERS ON CHARGES OF MONEY LAUNDERING AND A MAJOR COMPANY-WIDE EMBEZZLEMENT SCHEME)_ his boss’ questioning faded into static in the background. Even Geoff’s voice, panicked mutterings about Gavin and money and his father’s company shutting down overnight transcended into a sentient hum. Michael could only think of Gavin.

That had been two months, two weeks and three days ago. That, had led to this- Michael sitting on the wet floor of Gavin’s shower, fully clothed, as Gavin laid on his shoulder and tried really hard to pretend that he wasn’t crying.

“Come and live with me, Michael.” Gavin slurred, drunk. “In my lovely flat. Come and stay.”

Michael bit his lip. Gavin’s mother had died five years ago, and after his father was arrested and the company shut down, all the assets that hadn’t been seized by the government had been left to the sole benefactor- David Free’s only child, Gavin. Not long after the arrest, the Free name became amongst the most hated in New York, and Michael couldn’t say he blamed the city residents. Gavin’s father had stolen money right out of his customer’s pockets, from savings accounts and retirement funds, and had kept it all for himself to help fund his lavish lifestyle.

With his father in jail and the final hearing still pending, Gavin had been left all alone in that giant apartment. The main six of them spent as much time together there as possible- but that didn’t change that they all had lives outside Gavin, with jobs and relationships and responsibilities. Nobody could be there twenty-four hours a day.

Michael could, if he moved in. Perhaps Gavin would have a chance at feeling a little less lonely.

“I- maybe. I’ll have to see Gav.”

Gavin squeezed his hand tighter. “You’ve always been there for me, Michael.” He said. “Like, remember on your twelfth birthday? You wanted so badly to watch _Alien_ , even though it was R rated, and as a treat your mum let us. We got to stay in your big brother’s room because he had the TV with the VHS built in and we watched it in the dark… and I was _so_ terrified that I wouldn’t look out from under the covers.” He laughed, but it was strained. Michael did his best to smile at the memory.

“Course I remember.” He said. “You had nightmares for weeks and your mom threatened to fucking sue.”

“Yeah! She did.” Gavin made another pathetic attempt at a laugh. “But anyway- when we were watching it, remember, as soon as I started getting too scared, you held my hand so tightly. Just like this.” Gavin looked down at their interlinked fingers and squeezed again, lifting their hands briefly before letting them fall back to the floor with a dull splash. “You spent the whole film pretending you weren’t scared at all, even though I knew you were. All to make me feel safe.”

Michael rested his head on the tiled wall. “Gavin… I don’t know what you want me to say.”

“I don’t want you to say anything. I just… want you to know that I remember these things. I remember all of those times you were there for me, and I’ll always remember this. Come and live with me? Pretty please?”

Gavin sat up, and Michael turned to look at him. The two held eye contact for a few silent seconds, Gavin’s hazel-green eyes teary and pleading. Michael could never have said no, not in a million years.

“I’ll think about it, Gavin.” He said. “Really, I promise I will.”

And, for Gavin, that was enough.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Don’t do it.” Ryan said, through mouthfuls of his heart-attack inducing burger. “I literally cannot express my opinion any clearer. Do _not_ move in with Gavin.”

“But _why_?” Michael leant forwards on the plastic table, his own burger half eaten and pushed aside, dropped sloppily on top of his cold fries. Unsurprisingly, he hadn’t been particularly hungry. He’d spent most of the working day scatter-brained and absent minded, much to the displeasure of his boss Jerry who he’d been temporarily partnered with. Every moment was _Gavin_ and moving in and a whirling feeling of excitement and dread. By the time it was his lunch break, Michael’s stomach had twisted too far into knots to even think about eating.

Still, he’d texted Ryan to see if they were still on (they ate lunch together every Tuesday and every Friday, as Ryan’s job at the paper had a similar schedule to his out-call days) and taken him up on the offer of Burger King. Ryan had been excited to try some new giant burger Matt and Jeremy, two of the new interns had been babbling about. Michael settled for something a little less ambitious.

“What do you mean, _why_?” Ryan rolled his eyes, sipping his giant Diet Coke before popping the last bite of the monstrous burger into his mouth. He chewed quickly, eyes glaring at Michael did his best to look flippant and pretend like he hadn’t been thinking about Gavin’s proposal all day. Unsurprisingly, he got the sense that Ryan didn’t believe in his falseness for a second. “Look, yes you two have got a good friendship, and you get on well- but Gavin is in a vulnerable state right now. The last thing he needs is to use you as a space filler and become dependent. It’s already not healthy how much he relies on you.”

“Bull _shit_.” Michael scoffed, leaning back in the uncomfortable plastic chair. “Gavin and I would be perfect living together. I could keep an eye on him, make sure he doesn’t do nothing stupid!”

“Regardless of what’s going on with his dad and everything, you know more than anyone what Gavin is like Michael.” It was accusatory, and the sound of Ryan’s sharp words made Michael feel tense. _What does he know?_ He thought. Ryan didn’t know _shit_ about Gavin and him- but he continued on, more than confident in his words. Michael’s hands began to shake. “When you’re with him, he’s… _all_ - _encompassing_. He’s like a vacuum of a person, or a gravitational field that sucks you in until you stabilise against it. When you’re with Gavin- every second is the _Gavin Free_ show-”

“Did you know his dad killed himself three days ago?”

Ryan stilled. “No.” he said, voice quieting instantly. “I didn’t. That’s… awful. Really. He wasn’t a good man but- yeah…” he trailed off, looking at the scraps of remaining lettuce from his burger and shaking his head. Michael sighed, regretting instantly the guilt he’d forced upon his friend, just because he hadn’t particularly liked what he had to say.

“Gavin’s pretty cut up about it but…” he glanced around the room, inhaling sharply. The guilt, of making Ryan feel uncomfortable was more than unpleasant, so Michael took the easy way out. He turned it into anger. “Who fucking cares around here? I’m sure the New Yorkers will be collectively rejoicing when they hear.” He almost snarled, shooting glares at the unsuspecting customers who sat dotted around the busy restaurant, inhaling their oversized burgers and nibbling at their grease soaked fries. “Fucking cunts- everyone’s gonna be so fucking happy that the asshole who stole all their money died, sure, but nobody ever thinks about what he left behind. Gavin. All fucking on his own.”

“It’s awful.” Ryan repeated, clearly unsure at first of what else he could say. “I can’t imagine what he’s going through… but I still don’t think moving in with him is going to make things better.”

“ _Why?_ ” Michael sighed again, but more dramatically, throwing his hands down onto the table. He countered; “Look- you and Ray are pretty fucking dependant on each other. Dude relies on you to cook his meals and I know damn straight that he has no idea how to use that complicated washer-dryer you have. Ray relies on you for everything that isn’t video-game themed. You spend every fucking day together, what’s the difference?”

“The difference is that we’re in a relationship, you moron.” Ryan dipped a fry in his pile of ketchup, but made no effort to move it towards his lips. “I don’t have Ray on fucking suicide watch. Plus- Michael, you seem to be forgetting one key reason you can’t move in with Gavin.”

“What fucking _key reason_?”

“Uh, Lindsay?” Ryan glared at him. “You know, your fucking _girlfriend?_ What would she say if you just spontaneously moved in with Gavin instead of her, huh?”

“He _needs_ me Rye.” Michael huffed, leaning forwards on his elbows. The Lindsay comment had taken him aback slightly. Okay, Ryan was right. He hadn’t even stopped for a second to consider what Lindsay would think about the whole thing and that made him instantly feel terrible, but he couldn’t just let Ryan know that. He couldn’t let Ryan be right when everything else was going so wrong.

“Gavin needs a lot of things Michael. Heartbreak isn’t one of them.” Ryan pushed the food away from him dismissively, and stood from his seat, wiping his hands on a napkin that was then dropped onto the table. “He loves you. Having Lindsay over all the time and having to watch you two together is only going to make him feel worse.”

“Whatever.” Michael muttered, too quiet for Ryan to hear as he gathered his laptop bag and left the chain-restaurant with a limp wave. Sure, he had some valid points, but it didn’t stop Michael from fearing the worse. He knew it wasn’t safe, just leaving Gavin to live on his own and work out his own problems in the hours which none of them could hang around with him- but, at the same time, he had to acknowledge Lindsay. She was his _girlfriend_ , after all, and making rash decisions such as moving in with Gavin fucking Free was something he simply couldn’t do without consulting her first.

And maybe there was something to Ryan’s other theory- the co-dependency issue. Suddenly being alone, truly, for the first time in his life without the distantly comforting option of his father being less than a cab ride away, Michael couldn’t help but understand Gavin’s desperation to have someone around the house at all times; and no matter how much sympathy he felt for his best friend- he refused to be a space filler. Gavin had always had a dirty habit of using people for his own self-needs and dropping them when he was finished like used tissues on a sidewalk. Michael didn’t want to believe that Gavin would do that do him- but he’d seen it happen enough to others to be wary. As of right then, he was the only person who’d managed to survive the Gavin Free experience without a broken heart and a handful of undelivered promises. He wanted to maintain that record.


	2. PART TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The AH guys get Gavin to take his first outing in over a month. Michael and Gavin have an intimate, drug-induced experience.

PART TWO

 

 

 

 

The next night they spent together was Geoff’s birthday.

Gavin had decided to deck out the apartment in streamers and golden banners with Geoff’s name emblazed all over, and Michael had to agree- seeing the gleeful look on their eldest friend’s face had been more than worth it. He didn’t even want to know how much Gavin had spent on six bottles of forty-year-old whiskey- one for every year he and Geoff had been friends.

“Happy Birthday, old man.” Gavin teased, grinning as Geoff cuddled him tightly and kissed him on the cheek. “Old man!” Geoff’s voice cracked, and they all giggled. “I’m only thirty-four!”

“That’s _ancient_.” Gavin laughed. “Honestly, I actually forget how old and gross you are sometimes. How old were you when you met me again?”

“Twenty-eight, but that’s beside the point!”

“Geoff you fucking _pervert_.” Ray jeered through a mouthful of chocolate cake. “I swear Gavin was like twelve?”

Geoff threw his hands up in protest. “He was fifteen!”

“Still underage.” Jack smirked, but his attention was mostly concentrated on his phone. Michael had been fairly quiet up to the point, just observing his friends banter and bickering with a smile. It had been a while since he’d seen Gavin like this- back to his usual self, more or less. It was nice, even if it would likely only last for a little while.

“You used to take me clubbing and everything!” he giggled.

“Yeah, I did do that.” Geoff shot the rest of the group a guilty smile. “Confession: I took Gavin to his first club when he was sixteen.” Then, he rolled his eyes fondly as Gavin rested his head on his old friend’s shoulder. “He fucking loved it, obviously.”

“Dude, wish Gavin had bothered to let me hang out with you when I was sixteen.” Michael scoffed, but he was still eyeing Jack out of the corner of his eye, who kept staring at his phone for a period of seconds before glancing up at Gavin with a guilty, worried frown, and then back down to his phone.

“I got carded fucking everywhere thanks to this.” He gestured at his baby-face. “I still do _now_ for fuck’s sake, and I’m twenty-two next month.”

“Back in England, you can go out drinking when you’re eighteen.” Gavin took a sip of the whiskey, straight out the bottle without a wince. Michael resisted the urge to frown- but Gavin’s rapidly increasing tolerance for hard liquor had been worrying him more and more recently. Up until the point where his father was arrested live on CNN, Gavin hardly touched the stuff. He gagged at so much as a floating piece of lime in his drink or a beer with ‘too many bubbles’. “Me and Dan used to go all the time when I’d go back and visit. Plus all the local pubs serve you beers from like, fifteen, if they know you or your parents.”

“England sucks.” Ray pitched in. “God Bless fucking America. At least my liver will remain intact for the rest of my life.”

“Mine too.” Ryan added. Geoff rolled his eyes.

“Please, with the amount of drugs you two get through in a week- I wouldn’t be surprised if they found you wandering the streets half-dressed one night before keeling over and dying like Edgar Allen Poe.”

They all laughed collectively, Gavin rolling his head against Geoff’s shoulder like a needy puppy, his legs raised on the couch and thrown into Michael’s lap. Ryan was in the armchair, Ray draped across his lap comfortably with a lit joint dangling from between his lips. Jack was sat opposite them in one of the dining chairs, an old expensive tobacco pipe Gavin had “found” in his father’s belongings hanging out of his mouth.

“Barbara says happy birthday.” Jack said, locking his phone and slipping it back into his pocket. Geoff smiled.

“Tell her I said thanks. Haven’t seen her in forever, is she still working in-”

“ _Always_ _Open_ , yeah. Still bartending.” Jack nodded, but the curtness to his speech and the way he had cut both Geoff and himself off left everyone suspicious. Clearly, there was more to his thoughts, but as the guilty glances toward Gavin increased in unconscious frequency, Michael was fairly certain there was more to the story than a birthday salutations.

“She uh, said that if we wanted to come down for a drink she’d hook you up with a couple birthday shots, on the house of course.” He eventually added, after almost a full minute of silent stares pointed in his direction.

The room remained silent. Geoff opened his mouth, as if to reply, but shut it promptly when Gavin shifted beside him, sitting up awkwardly and withdrawing his legs from Michael’s lap. Ray and Ryan shared a worried look with each other, but predictably, both chose to stay silent. Michael sighed.

“Forget it, we’re having fun here, right?” Jack mumbled. Nobody replied. Gavin continued to squirm, before turning to face Geoff.

“Go. Honestly. If you want to go… it’s your birthday, I can’t force you to stay here in the dark.”

“Gavin-”

“-Go to _Always Open_!” Gavin insisted, throwing in a shrug that he must’ve thought looked casual but instead made his body appear stiff and robotic, as if it was working on a faulty autopilot. Michael didn’t miss the way his usually tight-fitting tailor-made blazers were starting to swamp him around the arms and shoulders. He wondered if during the day, Gavin even bothered eating at all without anyone to watch over him.

“Not without you.” Geoff sat forwards, locking eyes with Jack across the room briefly. “Gavin, it’s my birthday and you bought me six bottles of whiskey. You’re one of my best friends. I’m not going anywhere without you, so we’ll stay here.”

“Or,” Michael said, before his brain had a chance to catch up with his thoughts. “You could come with.” He looked to Gavin, who turned and stared at him like he didn’t comprehend the language he was speaking. Michael resisted the urge to squirm under his scrutinise green eyes. “Gavin…” he sighed. “You haven’t left this apartment in weeks. Honestly, it would be good for you. Please… just, for me? And Geoff… come out with all of us? Just like old times?” it would’ve been embarrassing, how desperate he sounded if Gavin hadn’t been completely drawn in. Everything about his body language had changed- he’d turned from stiff to relaxed, leaning forwards into Michael’s words. His eyes were no longer wide and frightened, but the green still churned like seafoam. Michael swallowed thickly, anticipating the likely rejection.

“Okay.” Was certainly not what he was expecting to hear.

“I’ll come out.” knocked him and the others for six, each of them sitting up and sharing excited, but concerned looks with each other.

“Whatever.” Gavin shrugged, standing up from the chaise and shrugging his shoulders so his Jacket smoothed.  “Let’s go.”

He reached into the inside pockets for his sunglasses, golden aviators that his father had given him as a birthday gift many years ago, and slipped them over his eyes. They were the glasses Michael had mocked him for relentlessly over the years- but Gavin’s father had never given him many presents other than fat cheques, so he understood why his best friend hung onto them so dearly in the days since he was gone.

With them on, obscuring his eyes and most of his face completely, Gavin was somewhat unrecognisable. Michael hoped that would work in their favour.

 

* * *

 

 

The bar was called _Always Open_ even though it closed at one on weeknights, three-thirty on weekends. They had always frequented it, back when the old crew still did go out together- because Gavin had known the main bartender, a young girl called Barbara since they were kids and she always slipped them a free shot or two under the condition that she got to record them taking it and trying not to vomit.

“Long time no see.” She said with a wide smile as they strolled in, Gavin’s golden aviators sparkling as the low lighting bounced off them. She slid a crystal-looking glass in his direction, amber liquid warming the bottom. Gavin slipped his glasses down his nose slightly and winked at her. Barbara rolled her eyes. “And _Happy_ _Birthday_ Geoff!” She reached under the table and produced a bottle of Geoff’s favourite whiskey to serve, along with another bottle, the label old and faded. Michael couldn’t make out what kind of liquor it was- only that it was clear.

“Now the whiskey I can get behind, but what’s this shit?” Geoff hopped up on one of the barstools next to Jack, examining the bottle as Gavin leant with his back to the bar and the group, nodding his head softly to the music playing through the speakers and looked around at nothing in particular. It was a Wednesday night, so the bar wasn’t particularly busy. It was the perfect night for Gavin’s first public outing in over a month. “Birthday shots! _Duh_!” Barbara laid a few shot glasses across the bar, and snatched the bottle back from Geoff. “Even you two.” She pointed with the nozzle toward Ray and Ryan, who groaned. “C’mon.” she replied to their pouting. “It’s on the house. That means you legally can’t say no.”

“That feels wrong- but I don’t know enough about the law to dispute it.” Ray frowned into his own shot, and the others laughed.

“What about you Gav, you having one?” Michael turned and asked. Gavin shook his head, before necking his own drink. “No thanks.” He said, placing the empty glass back on the table. “I’ll have another scotch, when you’re ready Babs. Make it a double, yeah? I’m talking four fingers.”

Nobody pushed for Gavin to participate, all already far too in awe that he’d agreed to step foot out of the apartment at all. They did the burning, cheap shots, Ray and Ryan included (although Ray spat half of his out and demanded a free _Dr Pepper_ afterwards. Barbara obliged) and after another complimentary drink (a round of Geoff’s birthday scotch) they all dramatically insisted they pay for the rest (bar Gavin, who didn’t say much of anything at all- just nursed a few more glasses of expensive whiskey and shook his head whenever Michael pulled his wallet out.)

“Don’t worry.” He said, after the third round of beers Michael tried to buy. “I’ll just pick up the whole tab when we leave.”

“Your money ain’t no good here, Mr Free.” A gruff voice interrupted. Barbara turned around, sheepish when brought face to face with her manager, the owner of the bar. Michael scowled at him. Even before Gavin’s transition into social pariah, he’d been an asshole. Michael couldn’t count the amount of times they’d been tossed out on their asses for being “too loud”, “too reckless”, “too inappropriate.” Michael was convinced the asshole was a major homophobe too, but hadn’t yet acquired enough direct proof too complain.

Gavin had stiffened when he’d heard the voice, and silently, Michael reached across the bar and touched his shaking hand, which was clutching a wad of bills.

“Look, Mark- they’re just here to drink-”

“-Get back to work Barbara. There’s other customers that need serving.” He ordered. Barbara shot them both apologetic looks, before turning and leaving their section. Michael bit his lip. “Look, man. We don’t want any trouble.” He tried, but _Mark’s_ expression didn’t change. Gavin’s hand reached forwards with the money, and Michael couldn’t take his eyes off the way the bills quivered.

“Didn’t you hear me, boy?” Mark leant over the bar threateningly, and Gavin shrank backwards. Michael clenched his fist. “Your daddy’s stolen money ain’t no good here, so why don’t you and your little friend-” he glared fiercely at Michael, “-beat it and not bother coming back.”

“Hey-” Jack stepped into frame behind them, and Michael was glad- because his friends comforting presence was the only thing stopping him from lurching across the bar and wringing the asshole’s neck. “-is there a problem here?”

“As a matter of fact there is.” Mark reached across the table and took Gavin’s third drink, half finished, away from him, tossing the scotch and the glass roughly into the sink under the bar. “You need to leave. All of you.”

“Now, that’s not fair-” Jack started, but it was too late. Gavin was already spooked, and suddenly, became unfrozen. He turned heel and bolted outside, Geoff not far behind him, noticing immediately that something was very wrong.

“Fuck you.” Michael spat, following the rest of his friends as they gathered their things and rushed out of the bar, chasing after Gavin. “Later Barb. Thanks for the drinks.” He reached into his wallet, and tossed down two hundred-dollar bills. In that moment, it didn’t matter that it was all the money he had- payday being well over a week away.

 

* * *

 

 

 

“Honestly, what a fucking _asshole_.” Michael growled, for maybe the fourth or fifth time as he walked quickly, trying to match Gavin’s hurried pace. The group of them were walking briskly through the streets, Gavin as their lead. There were no hundred dollar prizes for guessing where they were going. Gavin was spooked. When Gavin got spooked- he ran home.

“It’s fucking bullshit,” Ray agreed, hand wrapped tightly in Ryan’s. “What the fuck gives him the right to treat you like a criminal?”

Gavin was silent. He’d been silent for the whole journey- aviators masking his expression, but bitten lip giving enough for Michael to guess that he was shaken. His hands were balled into tiny fists and stuffed into the pockets of his pressed trousers. His body was hunched, his movements brisk and frantic.

Michael looked behind him, catching eyes with Geoff. He was frowning, one hand in his own pocket and the other tugging at his bowtie, loosening it around his neck until the silk fell flat on his shoulders. “I’m sorry Gav.” He mumbled. “It was a dumb idea. I shouldn’t have even suggested we-”

“It’s fine, I-” Gavin started to say, speaking for the first time since Mark had confronted him, but the sound of a camera whirring cut him off. Michael froze, peering around the street for the source.

And then he saw them.

Outside Gavin’s building, paparazzi were camped with cameras and flashbulbs. Eerily, Michael felt like he’d fallen back in time- back to that dreadful morning when news broke of Gavin’s father’s crimes and he’d rushed over to see his _boi_ , only to find a thousand cameras on his doorstep, waiting for the first peak of the prodigal son of New York’s most hated man.

“Shit.” Ryan said, but it was too late. They couldn’t turn back now- not when they’d already been spotted. The only way out, was through. Geoff pushed to the front of the group, and looked back at them all. “Follow my lead!” he exclaimed. Everyone nodded- except Gavin- who had again turned stiff with shock. Michael grabbed him by the arm, and after a brave, deep breath, pulled him into the crowd.

It was a blur of flashes and clicks and questions hurled at them from the accented mouths of various journalists. Gavin looked more than flustered, sunglasses askew on his face as he was pushed and pulled around by paps trying to get the best shot of his distress, Michael snarling beside him as he barked at people to _fuck off_ and _eat shit_. Geoff was doing crowd control from the front with Jack, shoving people out of the way to make them a clear path. In the rear, Ray and Ryan were keeping close so nobody could pull Gavin away from behind.

Just as they reached the door, one pap made his way through, and with his arm, he reached out to grab Gavin. Gavin was yanked back by the material of his expensive blazer- and decades of pre-dispositional clumsiness caused him to stumble, sunglasses flying off his face and hitting the concrete pavement with a crack before Michael grabbed his hand, and pulled him inside. Ray and Ryan left the rest of the shoving to the two doormen, who held off the paparazzi long enough for them safely to make it into the lobby. Geoff angrily stabbed the elevator button with his thumb as Jack ranted about paparazzi being _fucking vultures_. Michael wasn’t listening.

He stared at Gavin, stood shaking in the lobby. He looked down at their interlocked hands just as Gavin did- and felt his best friend pull desperately away. Reluctantly, Michael let him go- just as the elevator doors opened. Gavin stumbled inside, and pressed his floor. Nobody else moved.

“Here, Gav-” Michael stepped forwards to climb in, but Gavin shook his head and leant with one hand against the wall.

“I just want to be alone.” He said, reaching over and slamming the button labelled _Door Close_.

“I’m sorry, Gavin.” Michael called, even though it wasn’t his fault. Gavin looked down at the floor, and shrugged his blazer off his shoulders.

“Never again.” He muttered, and then the elevator doors slid shut.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Unanswered texts, calls that wandered into the old-fashioned territory of voicemail, doorbells and intercoms that went on ringing to no answer. Michael was furious, more with asshole paparazzi and Barbara’s boss and himself or Gavin. The idiot had disappeared in that elevator all alone (and Michael had fucking _let him_ ) and none of them had spoken to him since. Aside, that was, from Geoff.

“He’s alive, if that’s what you’re asking.” Geoff had finally offered up some dregs of information, after Michael’s continuous pestering. “Shaken, but he’s good. He just wants to keep a low profile at the moment. All his father’s businesses are tanking because the suicide story broke to the press. The trial hearing is still going ahead without him- just so the empire can be divided up accurately. But the charges have been set. Forty-six fucking counts of embezzlement. Thirty-eight counts of fraud. Fourteen counts of insider trading-”

“-twelve counts of money laundering, eight counts of forgery, and a Ponzi Scheme to wrap the whole thing up. Yeah, I heard.” Michael sighed. Geoff looked down at his food. On the invitation to lunch at a beautiful steakhouse in Manhattan (Geoff’s treat, it was _always_ Geoff’s treat) Michael had guessed neither of them would be particularly hungry. He hadn’t thought about anything as trivial as food in days. “I need to see him, Geoff.” He poked at his mash potato with a fork, but didn’t bother lifting any of it to his lips. “I know he doesn’t want to talk or whatever… but I’m fucking worried about him. Alright?”

“I know Michael.” Geoff sighed, sipping his beer. “Just… I’ll talk to him, okay? Give him a couple more days. I’m pretty sure he’s dying to see you too.”

“Oh yeah?” Michael mumbled, disbelievingly. “Then why doesn’t he bother picking up the fucking phone when I call?”

“Maybe he just doesn’t know what to say.” Geoff shrugged, tossing his napkin down onto his mostly empty plate. “But hey- bring him a present or something when you do go up, if you know what I mean.” He smirked. “Get some of that Orange Sunshine shit. Maybe see if Ryan can find you some of that Japanese shit again, what was it called?”

“Green windowpane.” Michael smiled. “Gavin fucking loved it.”

“Dude loves acid.” Geoff shrugged, ignoring the disapproving glares the other patrons of the fancy restaurant were shooting. “Guarantee, if you mention LSD, he’ll invite you up.”

“I don’t know Geoff.” Michael rested his elbows on the table and rubbed his hair anxiously. “Should Gavin really be fucking doing LSD right now? He’s in a pretty fucked up emotional state. What if he has a bad trip?”

“He’s Gavin fucking Free.” Geoff glared. “Kid’s been doing acid since I met him. He knows what he’s doing.”

“Alright.” Michael sighed. LSD it was then. He could think of much cheaper peace offerings- but Gavin was fickle when it came to his drugs. Weed made him feel sick, and anything powdery made him sneeze repeatedly and the ‘drip’ (as he called it) made him choke. He didn’t inject (or at least, not after _that one time_ that nobody talked about), so he was mostly limited to anything he could swallow (but his gag reflex made pill-popping a traumatic event), and, out of those few drugs left he could stomach- Acid was his absolute favourite.

“I’ll get him the fucking acid.” Michael made a show of pulling out his wallet, even though he knew it was empty. Geoff, obviously, waved his hand away and put the whole meal on his tab. Lunch with Geoff was Michael’s favourite. He _never_ had to pay.

“Don’t bang on Acid though.” Geoff warned with a smile. “Been there, done that. Weirdest feeling ever. Getting your dick sucked however-”

“-Okay, gross!” Michael cut him off, frowning intensely. “I don’t need to hear about what you and Griffon get up to in your spare time. Jesus- it’s like hearing my parents talk about fucking… and drugs.”

“Hey! Griffon and I are way cooler than your parents.” Geoff stood up, straightening his Jacket. Michael took one last sip of his water, and followed suit.

“Sure Geoff.” He laughed. “Whatever.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It took a lot of begging, minor pleading and a promise to not let Ray suck his dick ever again (after that other _one time_ that nobody talked about) but Ryan came through as Ryan did, and delivered greatly with six tabs of _Green Windowpane_ \- a particularly potent type of LSD that was apparently imported from Japan. Then, Ryan went over his boring safety talk about the dangers of hallucinogenic drugs before stealing 2 tabs back for himself and Ray to take whilst watching _Rick and Morty_ , later. Michael rolled his eyes, but gladly let him. Anything to get Ryan out of his hair, and to get over to Gavin’s place as quickly as possible.

He’d received the text with his formal invitation only the night before- because, as usual, Gavin had heard _acid_ and immediately changed his mind about lack of company. Suddenly, solitude wasn’t so appealing. Go figure. Michael hated it when Geoff was right.

“Let me see the goods then!”

Gavin seemed to be his normal, cheery self, hovering in the doorway of his apartment as Michael stepped out the elevator. He was dressed in an expensive but pathetically wrinkled shirt, untucked from un-pressed, messy slacks. His feet were covered only with woollen, navy socks. His hair, as usual, was a mess.

But he wore a smile on his face, and that was all Michael cared about. It had been a while since he’d seen Gavin smile.

“I got your shit, you junkie.” He teased, pushing past Gavin into the apartment. Once inside, he headed into the main room and swung his backpack off his back and onto the coffee table. “Ryan said this shit’s pretty strong. I’m talking, like, up to an eight-hour trip.” He rifled through the various articles of trash in his bag before producing the tightly foil wrapped tabs, which he promptly unwrapped and held up to Gavin’s excited face. The apartment was dark, as usual, but Gavin reached up and pulled the string of the ceiling fan to give them a little more light.

“Looks pretty legit to me.” Gavin said after a thoughtful pause. Then, at Michael’s snicker, he snatched the package to inspect it by himself. “When has Ryan ever given us anything that wasn’t seriously fucking _legit_ , dude?” Michael flopped down onto the expensive couch, and propped his feet up onto the coffee table. Gavin didn’t move from where he was standing, holding the tabs experimentally to his face and gave them a curious sniff.

“So, you wanna drop it in here?” Michael asked. Gavin shrugged.

“Don’t mind really. I was thinking my room, like old times. Could do it out here though. I don’t mind.”

Michael smiled, more to himself than to Gavin. “Let’s go to your room.” He said. “Like old times.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Before meeting Gavin, drugs were to Michael just one of those _things_. Sure, he _heard_ about drugs all the time. He _saw_ them on TV in shows and movies that his mom let him watch. On the rarest occasion, he’d overhear one of his brothers mention smoking or buying pot. That was generally it.

Gavin was a rich kid. Rich kids, usually, had so many boring _things_ to keep them occupied, that they found drugs to be a grateful distraction from the mundanity of day-to-day life. Gavin, along with Geoff, was a prime example of this. Gavin had hit puberty half a year or so after Michael shot up and got squeaky, and consequently decided that perhaps he _was_ interested in this champagne-cocaine lifestyle.

At first, Michael had been sceptical. They were fourteen, and Gavin had pulled out a bottle of fancy vodka jacked from his dad’s liquor cabinet. Even though Michael had only ever drunk a few beers with his brothers, he trusted Gavin wouldn’t steer him wrong. The hangover was killer afterwards, and his mom had _hollered_ when he’d stumbled home and vomited in his own bed, but Michael believed it was worth it, because Gavin had enjoyed himself so much.

Most of his drug experiences had coincidentally ended up like that.

Gavin had access to everything, through other rich kids like Geoff and shady guys like Ryan. By the age of twenty-one, when he could start drinking legally, Michael had tried it all; alcohol, stimulants, uppers, downers, hallucinogens, edibles, smoke-ables. Smoking weed was probably the easiest of all the things he and Gavin and the _AH Crew_ did together, because it was pretty-easy to come by and the mellow buzz wasn’t anything to write home about in terms of habit. However, weed made Gavin queasy and the smell clung to his expensive clothes. That just couldn’t do.

Gavin’s favourite drug aside from LSD was, for a little while, coke, but Michael was smart enough to know that the likeliness of him developing an addiction was far too probable if he carried on the way he was. So, instead, he and Gavin dropped acid together. It was a completely different high than anything he’d done before- and better too, it was different every time. Diversity was what Gavin craved in a high. He liked to be shocked and tricked by the unexpected.

Gavin’s room was dark, like all the others in the house. A thin sliver of light peeked through the curtains and shone across his pretty, drowsy face. Michael stared. His body didn’t move.

They’d been laid together for six and a half hours.

The _trip_ was starting to wear off completely, Michael fairly-certain he’d slept through a serious chunk of it with peaceful, lucid dreams. Gavin appeared as if he was sleeping too, but Michael could see his eyeballs darting around under his lids. His body however, like Michaels, was completely still. A tired smirk spread across his face.

“You’re staring.” He breathed. Michael grinned.

“I am. Have you come down yet?”

“Hm.” Gavin rolled onto his back, stretched his lazy limbs with little effort. Michael winced as he heard a particularly loud click come from his wrist. “Think so,” Gavin nodded, settling on his back with his hands clasped over his chest. “What about you?”

“I’m down.” Michael nodded. Truthfully, his body still felt quite tingly- but his brain was no longer racing, eyes no longer seeing swirls of colour and light that weren’t there at all. All he could see was Gavin, and that was enough. Michael remained laying on his side.

“How are you, Gavin?” he asked. Gavin turned his head. “Really,” Michael said again. “How are you, after everything?”

“I’m…” Gavin trailed off, staring up at the ceiling. “I’m okay, I think.” He looked back at Michael. “I just… my head’s all muddled I guess, and not just from the acid. There’s a lot to think about.”

“You can talk to me you know.”

A small smile lingered on Gavin’s lips. However, Michael couldn’t help but notice, his eyes still looked sad as they avoided contact. “It would be easier if you were here all the time.” He said. Michael shifted awkwardly, burrowing further into the bed. At some point, both he and Gavin had gotten undressed and crept under the covers. “I know, Gav…” he mumbled. “I just… I dunno if I can just… move in. Maybe it isn’t the best idea, I don’t know.”

Gavin was quiet. Michael looked past him, to the small clock on the nightstand. Ten silent minutes passed between them, Gavin’s quiet breaths steadily fluctuating in rhythm with the ticking of the second hand. Michael felt like he was holding his own, waiting desperately for Gavin to say something.

“Hey, Michael?” Gavin whispered, looking him dead in the eyes for the first time all night. Michael held stare.

“Yeah Gav?”

“Am I a good person?”

Michael swallowed. “Of course.”

“Hm.” Gavin rested his head flat against the pillow again, eyes fixed back on the ceiling. Still, his hands were interlinked over his heaving chest. “I’m glad you think so.” He said quietly. “Sometimes it doesn’t feel so much that way.”

Michael wasn’t sure what an appropriate response would be to that statement. Really, what he wanted to do was reach across the bed and pull Gavin into a tight embrace. However, that wasn’t what best friends (one with a girlfriend) did whilst only in boxers, sharing a bed after an intimate acid trip. Instead, Michael chose to say nothing.

“You shouldn’t move in.” Gavin sat up from the bed, blankets pooling around his waist as he swung his legs around to hang over the edge of the bed. “I shouldn’t have asked.”

Michael didn’t correct him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos is great, but comments are what really make my day :))) hope u enjoyed !


	3. PART THREE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lindsay has something to say. Ryan and Ray give some advice. Michael makes a drunken decision.

PART THREE

 

 

It was a massive cliché, but Lindsay wasn’t like ‘other girls’ Michael had met in New York.

She was a southerner, Dallas born and bred with the ranch-house parents and embarrassing cowboy family photoshoots to prove it. She was loud, abrasive, didn’t give a shit about what other people thought of her, funny, pretty, cool and most of all- she actually _liked_ Michael, for reasons he still couldn’t quite figure. Before meeting Lindsay, Michael had never met a girl he’d clicked with so instantly. For some reason, Lindsay was just completely on his wavelength.

They got each other. They _worked_.

So, Michael was understandably suspicious when they sat down at dinner- he’d gone the extra mile and treated her to a meal out in one of her favourite Italian restaurants despite the fact that he was still broke after buying acid (not that she knew about that or would _ever_ know about that) but Lindsay didn’t seem her usual self. Something was off, and Michael noticed it immediately. She was quiet, sheepish even. Instead of looking at Michael, she stared at the table cloth. He went off into a story about Gavin and his father, she didn’t seem to be listening.

Her sudden change in personality made Michael nervous, and by the time their main courses arrived at the table, he couldn’t bare the awkwardness any longer.

“Linds, what is it?” he asked quietly, watching how she didn’t even make an effort to touch her food. Lindsay fucking _loved_ pizza. Something was definitely wrong. “You’re hardly fucking talking, hardly eating. Is something wrong?”

Lindsay sighed, before looking up to face him. “Michael… I- we need to talk.”

Michael dropped his fork, and it landed with a quiet thud on the table. Suddenly, he wasn’t really feeling like Bolognese and the spaghetti’s worm-like shape made his stomach turn. He knew what _we need to talk_ paired with a few sighs and an avoidance of eye contact meant. He just never figured he’d be the one hearing it from Lindsay.

They were _perfect_ together, everyone had always said so. They _worked_. It had been his intention, sometime within the next few months to take her back to this exact restaurant, get down on one knee and ask for her hand in marriage. Thank _God_ he hadn’t bought the ring yet.

“Look, I’m not gonna be cliché and do the whole, it’s not you it’s me thing. Because, Michael, the problem here isn’t me. It’s _you_.”

“What?!” Michael visibly recoiled, raising his voice. A few people around them looked over, but he glared them successfully back into to their food. “What the fuck have I done?” he lowered his voice to more of a distraught whisper, and reached across the table to touch her hand. Lindsay pulled away.

“Michael, we need to break up. This just isn’t working for me anymore.”

“But _why_? Lindsay, we’re perfect together. Everyone says so- I fucking _love_ you.”

“No, Michael.” She shook her head. “That’s the problem. You _don’t_ love me. That’s why I’m doing this- ending things. It’s ‘cause I can’t be in a relationship with someone who’s so clearly in love with someone else!”

If Michael’s jaw was big enough, it would have crashed into the table from the way his mouth fell open. “ _What_?” he whispered, angrily. “Who the _fuck_ else would I be in love with?”

Lindsay smiled at him. “Michael. I think you know what I’m talking about-”

“-I really don’t.” he interrupted her. “You sound crazy- don’t you realise how fucking insane you sound? Linds, don’t do this. Please, I’m begging you.”

“Michael, we’re always gonna be friends, okay? Nothing is going to change that. I just can’t do _this_ anymore.” She gestured at the growing space between them as she pushed her chair back from the table, and reached down to pick up her bag. “Because, when it comes down to it, you’re always going to choose him over me.”

“ _Who?_ ” Michael demanded loudly, just as Lindsay grabbed her jacket and stood from the table. She looked down on him with a sad, pitying smile, and shook her head gently. “I think you know who, Michael.” She said quietly.

Michael huffed. “Look, if this is about Gavin, you’re dead wrong-”

“-of course it’s about Gavin!” She laughed, despite the awkwardness of the situation. “You know it is. Deny it all you want Michael, it’s not going to change anything. You love that idiot. You always have, and I love you both. All I want is for you to be happy, and it’s obviously not with me.”

“Don’t do this. Please.” Michael tried a final time to get her to stay, but it was futile. His tiny, whispered pleas fell on deaf ears. Lindsay shook her head, and reached into her purse to _leave_ a few bills on the table. “I’ll see you around Michael. We’ll always be friends, no matter what.” She said, before turning and walking hurriedly out of the restaurant. Michael folded, resting his forehead briefly on the table. For a second, he cursed Gavin’s entire existence, but no- that wasn’t fair. It wasn’t Gavin’s fault that everyone had adopted the radical idea that they were in love with each other.

“Fuck this.” Michael mumbled to himself, grabbing the last few bills from his wallet and throwing them down on the table aside Lindsay’s money. He grabbed his coat and walked quickly out of the restaurant, backpack heavy on his back. He couldn’t go back to his apartment- not with all of Lindsay’s things she’d left there, hovering around, taunting him. He couldn’t go to Gavin’s- because that would be just what she wanted. No, instead, he only had one other option.

He just hoped they weren’t fucking on the couch again.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

For two people that prided themselves on being so _perfect_ together, Ray and Ryan were remarkably different. Ray was a New York native, rude and snippy with pasty sun-starved skin and an overall negative attitude. Ryan was a _southern_ country boy- built like a farmhand with polite manners and a surprisingly dark sense of humour. Ray and Ryan were remarkably different, in age and height and background and everything else noteworthy about two human beings- but somehow, they still made it work, and even more impressively, they made it look _easy_. Michael fumed as he walked into their apartment (the door was never locked, except after midnight) and saw the two of them laid together on the couch, lazily kissing.

“Dude, knock much?” Ray sat up, glaring as Michael made his way through the front door, tossed his bag down and collapsed angrily into the armchair. “Woah, what’s your problem?”

“Lindsay just dumped me!”

Of course, that stunned them. Ryan sat up and Ray followed, the pair sharing a worried look between them. The room was silent. Michael folded his arms tightly over his chest.

“Wanna smoke some dope and talk about it?” Ray eventually offered. Michael nodded silently, and slowly pulled his beanie off his head, shaking his hand through his hair. Ryan stood up, and patted him on the back. “I’ll, uh… I’ll go get the stuff.” He said.

“Bring me my new pipe! You know, the pink one with the glitter on it!” Ray called after him, before scooting up to the edge of the couch so he could be near Michael. “You okay buddy?” he asked softly. Michael huffed, but nodded.

“I guess. Not really much I can fucking do about it. She doesn’t want to be with me. End of story.”

“Did she say why?” Ryan asked, entering the room with a rattling tin of supplies in one hand and Ray’s shiny pink pipe in the other. He shoved it all into Ray’s arms, and his boyfriend got busy immediately, routing through baggies and papers to roll Michael a perfect pity-joint. Michael watched absentmindedly, Ray’s nimble fingers providing an easy distraction from the heartache. “Michael? Did she say why?” Ryan repeated. Michael groaned.

“Yeah.” He said quietly. “No prizes for guessing the reason.”

“Gavin?” Ray mumbled, twisting the grinder with rehearsed ease. Michael nodded.

“Gavin. For some reason she fucking thinks I’m in love with him instead of her, it’s fucking bullshit dude.”

Ray was carefully divvying up the hearty mix of weed and tobacco into long thin paper skins which were laid out on his lap. Ryan was close beside him, arm stretched across the back of the sofa so he could play with Ray’s curly hair. Michael resisted the urge to snap at them for being so _carelessly_ in love when he was so obviously _not_ , but Ray was rolling him a free joint, so he couldn’t really complain.

“Forgive me if I say I see where she’s coming from.” Ryan said, reaching forward to take one of the skins from Ray’s lap, presumably to roll it himself. Ray slapped his hand away. “If you wanna make yourself useful, you can pack my pipe, but we both know you can’t roll for shit, Rye.”

“I’m getting better!”

“Pipe or nothing, take your pick.”

Ryan huffed. “Fine.” He took the pink glass blown pipe from Ray’s lap and got to work packing it, as Michael frowned from the armchair. “Hey…” he muttered after a few beats of silence. “What do you mean you see where she’s coming from?”

Ray reached across to hand the finished joint and a lighter over to Michael, as Ryan scoffed besides him and lit the pipe with his own lighter. After a hit, which earned him a fierce glare from Ray, he leant his head back on the couch and exhaled smoke above them. “Come on…” he said quietly, voice slightly choked up by the smoke. “I haven’t seen two idiots so in love since _Friends_ ended.”

“Oh what the _fuck_ ever dude.” Michael rolled his eyes, lighting his own joint and taking a deep hit. At least he could always count on drugs to make him feel better, considering his own friends were doing such a terrible job. “I know Gavin and I spend a _lot_ of time together but… he _needs_ me, you know? Especially right now when he’s going through so much. I’m gonna fucking be there for him, no matter what.”

“And that’s called love.” Ray sang under his breath, twisting the end of the last joint so it was complete before backing his supplies back away. Then, he swapped it with Ryan for his ridiculously garish pipe and caught the white zippo that Michael threw back his way.

“Shut _up_.” Michael flicked ash into the ashtray that sat between them all on the coffee table. “If Gavin and I were so fucking… _in love_ , wouldn’t something have happened by now? In all these years of fucking friendship?”

“Sometimes,” Ryan paused to cough quietly. “it takes tragedy or a sudden shock for those feelings to fully develop. Only then do you realise that maybe they were there all along.”

Michael shifted uncomfortably in the armchair until he’d turned around fully, back laid in the seat part and his legs handing over the armrest. His head rested on the other arm rest, and he brought the joint back to his lips. Laid on his back, the smoke clogged his throat and ran in a gush down his throat. The feeling was incredible, but the sadness didn’t fade.

“Whatever,” he mumbled, after a few silent minutes of straight inhaling from the three of them. “Lindsay still wants to be friends, so I guess there’s that. We always did have a good friendship before we started all this dating shit. Maybe just being friends is the best thing for us right now.”

He looked over, eyes already starting to feel heavy, and noticed that Ray had at some point shifted positions and laid his head in Ryan’s lap. Ryan was looking down at him, stroking his hair gently. It couldn’t be denied that they loved each other, immensely. Michael had always felt that he loved Lindsay, but had they ever been intimate like this? They didn’t _do_ little moments of gentle affection like Ryan and Ray. Thinking about it, there had never been anything particularly romantic about their relationship at all. They were like best friends, who had sex and cuddled.

He did most of that with Gavin.

“When are you gonna see Gav next?” Ray asked, voice melting away with the flick of his lighter. Michael shrugged.

“I dunno. I was gonna go up and see him tomorrow but I think I might pass. I need some time just… to myself, you know? But Halloween’s coming up next week. We’ll all do something then, right? Maybe Gav will even be ready to come out again.”

“I’m sure he will.” Ryan said. “He’ll have you there to protect him.”

 

* * *

 

 

 Gavin had never enjoyed Halloween.

Michael remembered being a kid, and staring at his costume hanging in his closet with awe and excitement for weeks in advance of the big day. He’d done all the major players- Superman, Freddy Kruger, the Red Power Ranger, a cowboy, an astronaut. Every year, he’d ask Gavin in that same stupid kid way _what he was going to be_. Gavin would turn up his nose and say he wasn’t going to be anything, because dressing up was for _babies_. After a while, Michael stopped asking.

Clearly, his attitude hadn’t changed in adulthood. They were all costumed in some way- Michael had donned a smock and a hat and passed himself off as Robin hood- Ray and Ryan had gone half-assed (which was a surprisingly high level of effort for them) as a lumberjack and little Red Riding Hood. It was nice, to see Ray trade in his oversized purple hoodie for an equally oversized red one. Variation.

Geoff had curled his moustache within an inch of it’s life and added an eyepatch to a perfectly pressed grey suit. “Cor-Pirate? Get it?!” he’d yelled at every person to question the costume once they made it down to _Always Open_. Nobody yet had gotten the gag first time. Jack had painted his face green and donned the giant fists he’d bought for a stupid amount of money during his last trip to Disney-World. Michael had to credit him. At least his hulk costume was recognisable.

Gavin had met them on the corner of the street by his apartment in his usual get up- neat black suit, bowtie, pressed shirt. When questioned about his costume, Gavin had simply shrugged before slipping an intricately designed, expensive looking gold-and-white masquerade mask out of his Jacket pocket and over his eyes.

“What?!” he said to an audience of frowns. “Dressing up is for slutty college girls and desperate frat boys. Let’s go and get drunk in our own clothes, like adults.”

The bar looked the same, except for a few half assed Halloween decorations and around thirty more people than a usual busy Saturday night spilling out into the street. Barbara grinned, waving them over in her brightly coloured bumblebee costume and slipped them all an illuminous shot. With Gavin’s new disguise, he didn’t seem half as worried about being out and slammed his shot before the rest of them had a chance to inspect the liquor, before accepting the glass of scotch Barbara slid over to him and finishing that too. He slid the glass back, and tapped the wooden bar. “Another.”

“Woah, someone’s looking to not remember most of this evening.” Barbara said, raising an eyebrow as she poured him another double. Gavin wasn’t looking at her as he took the drink, his eyes fixed across the room. Michael squinted, wondering what on _earth_ he could be looking at as he mumbled, “Yeah, that’s the idea.” Before taking another drink. Then, Michael followed his gaze successfully until it landed on a pair of plastic fangs and an obnoxious black-and-red polyester cape. The guy was pretty tall, fairly built and had an interested smirk on his face as he locked eyes with Gavin.

Michael gripped his fists, and slammed his shot.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

It was just the five of them- Ray and Ryan sleepily mumbling to each other in the corner of the booth (they’d done an interesting combination of marijuana, ketamine and half a tab of acid each before coming out) whilst Geoff and Jack slammed drinks and drunkenly fell over each other, telling the same old stories with excitement and nostalgia in their voices. Michael sat in the middle of the group, arms folded, glare steely as he drank as much as humanly possible whilst watching Gavin, dancing with _that guy_ across the bar.

Fangs was grabby- his hands had been all over Gavin from the moment the brit had sauntered over, and they’d been feeding each other with drinks and intimate smiles ever since as they bumped crotches to loud music and talked with their faces far closer together than deemed necessary.

“Hey, misery. Wipe that scowl off your face.” Ryan giggled, suddenly in Michael’s personal space with his chin settled on his shoulder. Ray wasn’t far behind, just about upright in the booth with his eyes wide (pupils blown out to black disks with thin rings of brown surrounding them) but the rest of his face surpassingly docile. “At least Gavvy-Wavvy’s getting laid for once.” Ryan teased.

Michael fumed, but chose not to retort. That was probably _exactly_ what Ryan wanted him to do- get riled up and make a scene. But no- it was none of his business who Gavin hooked up with, because they were _just friends_ , right? It didn’t matter how intimate things had felt with them over recent, and how much more he’d thought about Gavin’s gorgeous features since Lindsay walked out on him and collected her stuff the following morning. He couldn’t exactly help it if his best friend was _beautiful_ , swaying his hips dreamily before leaning away from his costumed beaux, holding up a packet of cigarettes and nodding outside- the universal sign language for _“Just going for a fag break.”_

Without thinking, Michael clamoured over both Ray and Ryan, who had resumed their position slumped at the edge of the booth. The bouncer had been watching them with steely eyes for the last half an hour or so, suspecting they were certainly _not_ drunk (after all, neither of them had ordered anything but Diet Coke all night) but Ray and Ryan were two idiots who were surprisingly smart when it came to drugs, and always left the majority of their stash at home.

Once on his feet, Michael rushed across the dancefloor and headed out towards the door Gavin had left from. His legs wobbled as he tried to make it over as quickly as possible, and it occurred to him all too late that he was far, _far_ drunker than he’d originally realised.

“Gav-” he stumbled out of the side door and Gavin looked up, startled with his cigarette dangling from between his lips, unlit. His mouth curled into a smile when he realised it was Michael, clumsily dragging himself over before resting against the cool brick wall that was the side of the bar. “Gavvy-” he tried again, reaching over to poke at his best friend’s face. Gavin only laughed, before batting his hand away and lighting his cigarette.

“What on earth happened to you, Michael?” he asked. Michael did his best to shrug his shoulders whilst staying upright. “G’tdrunk.” He mumbled in reply. “Saw you- you over there w’that guy. Who’he?”

“His names Jackson.” Gavin smirked. “31, Libra. Why- you jealous or something?”

“ _Pshht_!” Michael scoffed, hoping Gavin would believe him. “Me? Jealous? Nah…” he trailed off, looking down at the concrete. Small puddles of water collected around his feet. Oh, that’s right- it had been raining. When had the rain stopped? He wasn’t sure.

When Michael looked back up at Gavin, his hair was wet. His cigarette was only half lit. The shoulders of his suit were damp.

“I’ll finish this quickly.” Gavin held his cigarette up between his fingers before taking a few, short drags in quick succession- successfully relighting it. “Don’t wanna keep you out here in the rain. You’ll catch cold, boi.”

“Don’t hook up with him.” the words tumbled out of Michael’s mouth before he was ready to acknowledge them, let alone say them. He shakily stepped forwards, toward Gavin. They were of similar heights, so locking eyes with their noses barely a few centimetres apart wasn’t a problem. Gavin didn’t move. He sucked again on his cigarette, and smoke drifted between the two of them.

“Why not?” Gavin took one last drag, before tossing the cigarette onto the ground, into a wet puddle. Michael wasn’t sure how to answer that question.

Or at least, he wasn’t sure how to answer the question with words.

Gavin didn’t freeze, didn’t still or push him back like Michael had been fearing. He melted into the kiss, going as far as to bring his arms up around Michael’s shoulders, pulling their bodies together briefly as their tongues slid against each other. Michael felt _invigorated_. Kissing Gavin was like making out with an exposed wire, and electricity crackled between them, making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

Then, Gavin turned the power off.

He stepped away, a strange smirk playing on his lips as he released Michael with a laugh. Then, he rubbed at his bottom lip with his thumb and forefinger, and stepped further back, towards the door. Michael reached out for him weakly, but his body wasn’t co-operating with his brain. The alcohol had destroyed the relationship between the two completely- so reluctantly, he stood still and let Gavin turn back into the bar, leaving him outside, helpless and alone in the rain.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Kudos is appreciated and comments are loved, as usual! You can also HMU on my tumblr: PAPERSK1N.tumblr.com


	4. PART FOUR

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael and Gavin have a falling out. It's up to the AH guys to shove them back together. Michael asks Gavin a very important question.

PART FOUR

 

 

Bacon.

It was the first thing Michael was aware of as his mind swam into the realms of consciousness. The scent of warm, cooking bacon was overpowering, enticing him from the deep sleep he had fallen into, awakening his senses. Michael peeled his eyes open, despite his brain screaming for the light to disappear. He blinked a few times and his eyes stung. _Shit-_ He must’ve left his contacts in before passing out.

“You okay?”

Australian. Her voice was high and sweet sounding. Michael frowned.

“ _Caiti_?”

“Hey Michael.” She smiled, and slowly, Michael sat up. He was on a couch. Caiti’s couch- apparently. And if Caiti was there, that meant-

“Hey there Robin Hood.” Jack’s voice was booming behind him, and Michael frowned as a plate was slipped into his lap, along with a knife and fork. He looked up to see Jack, smirking and significantly _less_ hungover, coffee cup gripped in his hand. “Glad to see you didn’t die in your fucking sleep like we thought you would.”

“You had a _lot_ to drink.” Caiti added. “By the time I showed up at the bar, you couldn’t even speak-”

“I don’t even remember you being there…” Michael frowned, rubbing his eyes and wincing when he felt his contact scratch slightly. “Oh fuck- wait…” he gestured around his head vaguely and they both laughed. “…angel?”

“Yeah, I was the angel.” Caiti nodded with her sweet, sympathetic smile. “I came after my shift at the hospital but I’m not surprised you don’t remember. Jack and I had to basically carry you back here- not that he was much help.” She glared up at him briefly, but her smile remained. “Bunch of drunken babies.”

“Sorry babe.” Jack smiled sipping his coffee. “But, in my defence- Geoff was way drunker.”

“Ray and Ryan were in pretty bad shape too.” She agreed. Michael tuned out of the conversation after that, stabbing the bacon and egg with his fork before lifting it to his dry lips. Only when Jack handed him a glass of water did he realise how fucking _thirsty_ he was, chugging the entire thing in seconds before going back to devouring his breakfast.

“-And Gavin,” Caiti was saying. Michael perked up. “That guy he was with- they couldn’t keep their hands off each other all night. It wasn’t PG!” she laughed.

Michael felt his heart physically contract. His body stilled and he dropped the fork back onto the plate. Suddenly, he wasn’t hungry anymore.

“Michael? You okay?” Jack asked. Michael shook his head.

“I-I uh, I have to go. I’ve got- stuff, to sort out.” He scrambled to stand up, wobbling only slightly as he left the half-eaten breakfast behind on the sofa. “Sorry, thanks for the breakfast I just… I gotta go.” He glanced at the door. “Where’s my stuff?”

“Here.” Caiti held up his backpack and Jacket. “You sure you’re okay to go home Michael? We can call you a cab if you-”

“No, it’s fine.” Michael shook his head. “Thank you though. I’ll… I’ll see you around.”

 

* * *

 

 

 The hangover set fully in in the worst possible place. The _subway_.

Michael’s head was pounding and his eyes were squinting behind his glasses as he took slow steps away from the carriage. People were rushing around him from all angles, talking loudly into cell phones. Their voices swarmed with the constant beeping of the doors and screeching of the trains on tracks. It was fucking _awful_ , and once he was up the steps and into the clear-ish air of New York City, it was still hard to feel grateful.

His chest heaved as he did his best to rush to Gavin’s place. Despite feeling shitty, he knew the quicker he talked to Gavin and got everything out in the open the better. They’d kissed- and that wasn’t something small. They’d kissed, and then Gavin had _still_ gone back and hooked up with someone else despite.

Michael’s hand was closed into a fist as he pounded on the door. The concierge had let him up without question- they were used to his pale freckled face hovering around the lobby more often than not and didn’t bother IDing him nor calling Gavin down to vet.

Pacing the corridor, Michael wracked his brains for the blurry memories from last night. He and Gavin had definitely made out- that was the part he was sure of. From what he remembered, it was pretty good. He’d _enjoyed_ it.

Had Gavin?

The door creaked open and a slither of Gavin’s face was brought into view. He looked passively tired, faint smile clinging to his face and a large T-shirt hanging down to his thighs. From underneath, Michael could only catch a slither of black boxer briefs wrapped around skinny thighs.

“Michael, love.” He yawned, pushing the door open a slight fraction more, but not enough to invite him inside. “What’s up?”

“I…” words escaped him. Michael stared at Gavin. He caught sight of fresh hickeys on his neck, watched the way he winced slightly when he stretched his arms above his head. His shirt rode up, and faint red marks formed a trail towards-

“Who’s at the door?” another voice called. Michael tensed as Gavin turned around.

“Just a mate, babe. I’ll be back in a sec.”

Then, he turned back to Michael. “Well?” he huffed impatiently. “What is it Michael?”

“I just…” Michael didn’t move. Clearly, Gavin didn’t want him inside- and he wasn’t sure if he wanted to be there either. “I just wanted to say sorry,” he settled on. “for being fucking… drunk and stuff, last night.”

“Yeah, bet you’re hanging like fuck.” Gavin gave a soft laugh. “Still, no harm done. I’ll see you around.” He moved to close the door, but with a sudden surge of courage Michael blocked it with the toe of his sneaker. “Wait.” He said to the slither of Gavin still visible in the crack of the open door. It didn’t matter how well he covered it with a flippant sense of disinterest. Michael knew Gavin enough to know when he looked guilty. “Don’t you want to talk about it?”

“Come back to bed, Gav!” the voice called again. Gavin looked back, then looked at Michael.

“I think you should go.” His voice was quiet, and all eye contact was avoided. Michael just nodded, at a loss for words as he stepped back so Gavin could close the door in his face.

 _Fucking fine-_ Michael thought. If _that_ was what Gavin wanted, then so fucking be it. There was no point on wasting his breath for someone who clearly cared so little about anything but his own sexual fucking satisfaction.

 

* * *

 

 

Michael did his best not to think about Gavin after that.

Gavin didn’t leave his apartment for the next few weeks, but Michael didn’t bother visiting like everyone begged him too. Gavin was playing hard to get again- radio silence to everyone bar Geoff with the occasional text confirming he was alive or asking him to buy more whiskey. Michael did his best to look disinterested when the stories were relayed to him of Gavin, alone and drinking in the dark.

Not caring about Gavin was a harder job than caring for him, but Michael soldiered on. He worked more often than not, clocking up as much overtime as possible. It was worth it for the hefty pay-check that came his way at the end of the month- but without Gavin to give ridiculous suggestions, Michael couldn’t think of anything significant to spend it on. Instead, he paid off his rent and owed rent, and his landlord stopped pounding down his door at night.

Three weeks after Halloween, Michael found himself being invited out for lunch with Geoff. It was yet another swanky steak place- Geoff only ever ate in swanky steak places- so Michael couldn’t help but feel underdressed as he wandered in, hoodie and jeans and beanie and sneakers doing their best to demonstrate how much he _didn’t_ fit in.

Geoff was already at the table with a whisky and a sharp suit. He rolled his eyes when he saw Michael, looking considerably more shabby.

“Hey kid. Long time no see.”

“I’ve been busy.” Michael took a seat and picked up the menu so he wouldn’t have to meet Geoff’s screaming eyes. “Working. You know how it is.”

“Spoke to Gavin?” So, Geoff wasn’t playing around apparently. He didn’t even have the time for the formality of pretending he wanted to see Michael for lunch. They were going straight for the main topic of conversation, the _constant_ main topic of conversation: Gavin Free.

“You two need to talk things out.” Geoff sighed. “He’s a mess without you.”

“Gavin and I don’t need to talk about shit.” Michael snapped, calling the waiter over and asking for a beer and a rump steak- medium rare. Geoff ordered his extra bloody. Typical. “I need to focus on my job and my life- which isn’t just Gavin fucking _Free_ , believe it or not.”

“You sure about that?” Geoff smirked as a second whiskey was laid in front of him, crystal glass sparkling under the restaurant table lighting. Michael glared ferociously over his beer.

“Gavin Free is _not_ my whole life and he shouldn’t be.”

Geoff laughed. “Oh, you _fucking_ _idiot_.” He was cackling then, head thrown back in his chair and Michael continued to frown. “He absolutely is. He really, _really_ is.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Always Open had started to become a place Michael associated with his sadness, as once again, he found himself sat beside Jack in a booth nursing a few drinks as he did his best not to think about Gavin or let his heart sink further into his stomach.

“He hasn’t left the apartment since Halloween.” Jack parroted information he already knew, and Michael pretended not to be interested. “Everyone’s worried about him.”

“Did you catch that new Avengers movie yet? I was thinking about it but Ray said it was Dog-shit.”

“Ray said _what?!_ Dude- it was fucking awesome, the dynamic between Cap and Tony is-” Michael faded out after that. The easiest way to distract Jack was to mention the Marvel Cinematic Universe. He was like a child’s wind-up toy, and Michael had cranked him up to eleven.

As Jack went on and on about a series of movies he didn’t particularly care for, Michael stared around the bar at the lingering few regulars. He hadn’t expected it to be busy, being a Tuesday night, but Barbara was still going strong, wiping down the bar and handing out trays of drinks to giggling girls who had rolled in straight from their workday.

He was just considering if the red-headed one would be worth trying to talk to when the bell rang, signalling more customers wandering through the front door. Michael looked over, barely interested, but he froze when he laid eyes on Gavin Free, sharp suit pressed and not a lick of disguise on his face.

Apparently, Gavin wasn’t so concerned with hiding anymore.

He waved at Barbara, who had already pulled a glass from under the bar and begun making him a whiskey. Then, after paying noticeably more than necessary for his drink and refusing the change, Gavin looked around nonchalantly until he locked eyes with Michael. Then, he smiled broadly, before hopping down from the bar stall and sauntering over. Michael frowned.

“Did you do this?” He glared at Jack accusingly, just before Gavin made it to the table.

“Jack!” He smiled brightly, hand tucked into his pocket. “Boi.” He nodded over at Michael and smirked. “Long time no see.”

“Well would you look at that, I have to leave.” Jack didn’t bother trying to hide his grin directed at them both, before climbing out of the booth. “Catch y’all later. Have a good night.”

“What a coincidence.” Gavin took a hefty sip of his drink as he slipped into Jack’s empty spot. “Guess it’s just me and you.”

Michael couldn’t help but indulge in Gavin’s cockiness. To be truthful, he had missed the asshole more than he wanted to admit, and something as simple as being back in his presence made him feel more relaxed than he had in weeks.

“Can I buy you a drink?” Gavin asked, a teasing glint in his eye. Michael glared over at him and sipped his beer. Gavin huffed. “God don’t be a killjoy Michael. Why are you being so boring and arse-y?”

“Speak English, motherfucker.”

“You’ve been avoiding me!” Gavin laughed, and when Michael rolled his eyes he sat up and pointed accusingly over the table. “Don’t give me all that! You have. You’re pissed off with me. Geoff _said_.”

“Yeah, well Geoff needs to keep his fucking mouth shut.” Michael snapped. “I’ve been busy trying to fucking keep my life together without Lindsay in it.”

“Wait- what happened to Lindsay?”

Michael stiffened.

“Wait, you didn’t know?” he asked, and Gavin shook his head. Michael sighed, and glanced down at the table. He twisted the beer in his hands. “She dumped me.”

“Oh.” Gavin sat back a little, and his voice was small. “Did she say why?”

Michael gritted his teeth. He didn’t really want to disclose the exact reason Lindsay dumped him- because that was just inviting a conversation he didn’t want to have anytime soon. In reality, he knew it was a conversation they probably needed to have, but it was far easier to just ignore the feelings and keep them pushed down with everything else he repressed.

“Just the usual.” He mumbled. “It’s not you, it’s me. that kind of thing.” It wasn’t completely a lie, but it was far easier than the whole truth. “It’s whatever. She still wants to be friends, so there’s that, I guess.”

“I’m sorry Michael.” There was the odd tenderness in Gavin’s voice as he scooted around the booth and touched Michael’s arm gently. “Really, I am. You should’ve said. I wouldn’t’ve-” he cut himself off, and looked away at the table. “It doesn’t matter.” He shook his head and smiled. “Tell you what, boi. Come back to mine for a bit? Bars aren’t really my thing these days.” He wrinkled his nose as he peered around the dim space, and Michael scoffed.

His intention was to say no. It really, really was. He was going to turn his nose up at Gavin’s stupid offer of getting drunk in his depressing apartment and carry on with his evening, sipping a few bland beers before strolling home and climbing into his cold, empty bed.

Michael looked at the bottle in his hand. It was almost empty.

“You got beer?” he asked. Gavin grinned and stood up from the table, straightening his smart jacket.

“Uncultured animal.” He glared playfully. “I’ve got whiskey and maybe, if you’re _really_ lucky, a couple of microbrews in the fridge. Now c’mon, let’s go- before the boss has a chance to kick me out again.”

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael didn’t think it was possible for the place to get worse, but when he stepped through Gavin’s front door he noticed how considerably less tidy it was inside than the last time he’d seen it. Empty glass bottles of expensive liquor gathered in small clusters on the floor, clothes that could’ve been clean or dirty draped over the backs of chairs and couches. The curtains were flapping from where Gavin had left the window open, and Michael coughed as dust flew across the room and caught in his throat.

“Fucking hell Gav.” He rubbed his neck, frowning. “How can you bear it in here?”

His response was pathetically simple. “How can I leave?” Gavin half-shrugged, wandering over to the tall bookshelf. His nimble fingers danced across the leather-bound books until he pulled out what Michael recognised to be the _Free Family Photo-Album_ , a beautiful and expensive book wrapped in dark leather with real-gold lettering, shimmering on the front. “It’s all I have left of them.” Gavin mumbled softly, flicking through the pages until he came to a photo of his long-deceased mother, beaming in the sunshine of some luxury holiday destination. Michael felt uncomfortable, and lingered in the centre of the room. He chose to say nothing. Gavin leant against the stiff back of the sofa and sighed, stroking the photo gently.

The space between them was only a few feet at most, but in Michael’s chest it felt like miles.

Gavin had his back to Michael, unaware.

“Why did you invite me here, Gavin?” he decided to ask, after the silence had stretched on for a few painful minutes. The photo album was closed with a heavy thud between Gavin’s hands, and then was slid back in its place on the shelf. Gavin didn’t turn around.

“No reason.” He said, stroking the shelf fondly. “Just thought it would be nice to see you.”

“I just figured,” Michael took a semi-confident step further into the room. “…that you maybe wanted to talk? About, like, what happened between us.”

“What, that we kissed?” Gavin scoffed, flippantly, before turning around. “What is there to say Michael? Too much tongue? You were drunk, I’m sure you kiss much better sober, okay?”

“That’s it?!” Michael was fuming, but took a few deep breaths in effort to control his anger. The last thing he wanted to do was scare Gavin away when they’d only just reunited “Too much fucking tongue?” he asked- volume considerably lower, but his hands shook as feeling rushed through his body, alighting his nerves like a flame to gasoline. “That’s all you have to say?” he bit. “After you kissed me and then hooked up with someone else?”

“You kissed me.” Gavin corrected him, folding his arms over his chest. Then, he shrugged- “You were drunk and I was there. That doesn’t _mean_ anything.”

“It wouldn’t mean anything if it was anyone except for you.” Michael threw his hands up in the air. “But it _was_ you. I kissed _you_ , Gavin. My _best friend_. That _has_ to mean something!”

Gavin cast his eyes, a dulled, greyed-out version of the vibrant green that Michael used to know down to the ground. He shrugged his shoulders again and let out a soft sigh.

“What do you want me to say, Michael?” he asked.

Michael held his breath.

“Are we in love, Gavin?”

He hadn’t really given his brain much time to keep up with his mouth- a combination of anger and other, more frightening unnameable emotions overpowering his usual rationale. Michael was more than aware that his voice was shaking, tears swirling with the dust in his throat. Gavin pretended not to notice.

“Everyone thinks we are,” he continued “…but I gotta know. Do you love me?”

“ _Love_ -” Gavin let out another flippant scoff, before rounding the sofa and flopping down into it. He nodded for Michael to follow, which he did, reluctantly. When Michael sat down, Gavin took his hand and held it. “What does that matter?”

Gavin squeezed his hand gently, and Michael felt the anger flow outward and away from his body. All that was left was the _other_ feelings- the ones he had previously thought were so unspeakable and unlikely and impossible. But there they were, held between two hands on a velvet chaise lounge.

“You’re my whole world, you fuck.” Michael said softly. Gavin looked at him and smiled. He didn’t say anything, but the soft hug he pulled Michael in for was enough of an answer. They hung out for the rest of the night, watching shitty movies and talking about their friends, and Michael’s job and Gavin’s new favourite scotch. Neither mentioned it again. Michael stayed over- and in the middle of the night, Gavin rolled over and cuddled into his side.


	5. PART FIVE

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Michael does his best to take care of Gavin. Things fall apart.

PART FIVE

 

 

 

Michael ended up staying at Gavin’s place for a few days. He used the excuse of his angry landlord and rent costs and how _fucked up_ the subway lines were due to the ongoing strike but really, Michael knew full well he was just stalling. In reality, he was afraid of leaving Gavin. Just being with him for a few days had given him time, during the morning hours that Gavin slept off his hangover, to tidy up the whiskey bottles and wash the dirty clothes, hanging them back into Gavin’s giant walk in closet. He dusted the bookshelves, wiped down the kitchen surfaces and even one morning got on his hands and knees to scrub the bathroom tiles. He cleaned every inch of that apartment, and much to Gavin’s protest, even managed to open up the heavy curtains, getting some much needed light into the room.

It started to look the way it used to look, before everything had gone wrong . The stinging sense of De Ja Vu was comforting to Michael, but he could sense that Gavin felt slightly unnerved by it. Every time he passed the window, he’d squint at the sunlight and tug the curtains back over again. Whatever it was outside that he was so afraid of- it seemed like a few heavy curtains was more than enough to keep it out.

On the fourth night of Michael’s stay, they were both surprised when scurrying, panicked knocks came at the door. People didn’t just _show up_ at Gavin’s building. You had to be signed in by the doormen and security in the lobby, the residents had to call down and confirm your visitation. _Forms_ had to be filled out. In short, without personal escort by a resident, people didn’t just _show up_ unannounced often.

“Who the fuck could that be?” Michael huffed, standing up and making his way over. He and Gavin had been enjoying a relatively quiet evening, sat in front of the TV watching _The Wizard of Oz_ (Gavin’s mother’s favourite film) and drinking sprite. For the first night in a long time, Gavin didn’t even ask for whiskey.

Michael pulled the door open and was surprised to see Ray stood on the other side, tiny fists clenched by his sides, hood up over his head and a strong frown on his face. Past the angry façade, Michael could see wet tears clinging to the corners of his eyes.

“Woah, dude! What’s wrong?” he asked as Ray stormed past him, marching over to the armchair and throwing himself down into it, legs dangling over the armrest and arms crossed over his front. Gavin looked over at Michael with a worried frown, before reaching for the remote control and pausing the film. Michael just sighed, closing the front door quietly behind him before making his way over to the couch. He reclaimed his seat beside Gavin, and looked over to his other best friend.

“Ray?” he asked, just as a single tear crept down Ray’s face before he had the chance to wipe it away furiously. “What’s wrong.”

“Fucking… _Ryan_!”

Gavin frowned. “What’s he done now? I can have a word, if you’d like.”

“He’s just an _asshole_.” Ray groaned, shoving his head into his hands and rubbing at his hair. “Fucking… _hate_ that guy.” He sniffed. “He’s the worst.”

“What did he do?” Michael asked. Ray looked over tearfully.

“I told him that I wanted to quit.” He mumbled. “You know… fucking get out of Game Stop and start streaming full time, like I’ve _always_ wanted to do. But he doesn’t think I should do it.”

“Aw, Ray…” Gavin simpered. “You know he only wants the best for you, lad.”

“Ryan loves you.” Michael added. “If he didn’t give a fuck, he’d let you quit your job and just leave you if you got poor. He’s just trying to take care of you, man.”

“I fucking know that.” Ray pouted. “It just… it sucks, okay? Streaming is like… my fucking dream and he knows that. I have thousands of followers already but… I just know if I quit GameStop, which I fucking _hate,_ I’ll have so much more time to build a following. But he doesn’t believe in me.”

Gavin gasped sharply. “Don’t say that!” he exclaimed, and it was the most animated Michael had seen him be in days. “Ryan loves the _hell_ out of you Ray- of course he believes in you! Don’t be a baby, sometimes in a relationship you just have to compromise and think about the other person and how it would change their life, you know? You love each other- don’t you?”

“Well, yeah, but-”

“-No buts!” Gavin laughed. “When you love someone, you’ll do anything for them. Ryan would do anything for you but I’m sure you’d do the same. And if that means sticking it out at that shithole job for another few months until you’re both sure about this stream thing, then that’s it, isn’t it?”

Reluctantly, Ray nodded. The two continued talking, but Michael didn’t participate much. He was too busy staring at Gavin, in nothing short of shock at his incredibly profound advice. Gavin fucking Free, preaching about _love_ of all things? Only days ago, he’d said it didn’t even matter.

Or maybe, Michael concluded, it just didn’t matter between _them_. Perhaps Gavin was totally open to the concept as long as he wasn’t involved in it.

 

* * *

 

 

Regaining their friendship seemed to settle Gavin for a little while, Michael being able to easily distract him with shares psychedelic experiences and nights cuddled together on the couch, watching all of Gavin’s favourite old movies, but after a week or so he became shifty, skittish and detached once again.

Gavin was just an insatiable kind of guy. Michael had always known this, but he’d secretly hoped that him spending time alone with Gavin would be enough to keep him more than a little grounded. It hadn’t.

Finding places Gavin wouldn’t be recognised was becoming harder and harder. Gavin’s father’s trial was looming, still going ahead against the company name itself despite his death, and every time Michael looked out of the window he’d see judging faces, frowning up at the tower, knowing who was inside. Even _Always Open_ was too much of a risk, after a warning text from Barbara telling them that her boss had threatened disciplinary action against her if he caught Gavin’s face in there again. Turned out, his parents had been a victim of Mr. Free’s pension scam too.

After a week of Gavin’s silent complaining and longing stares in the direction if the window, Michael caved and called Ray. If anyone was going to find them somewhere low-key and shady, it would be him.

“There’s a rave in Brooklyn. Seriously underground. Nobody will recognise him there- and if they do… they’ll probably be too high to care.” Ray laughed, but nerves shot through Michael’s stomach. Deprived of alcohol (since Michael refused to go out and buy it for him) Gavin had been turning to drugs instead increasingly often. Michael knew he was only a few steps away from a serious habit, but kept fairly tight lipped about it to the others. He knew what would happen; they would worry and interfere and Gavin would run scared. That was the last thing they needed. “You in?” Ray asked. Michael swallowed thickly.

“Sure.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

Michael had been to a handful of illegal raves in his life.

The first one had been when he was sixteen. For once, it wasn’t Gavin’s idea to go out and do something so stupid. It was _Ray’s_.

_“C’mon, it might be fun.”_

“ _Dude_ ,” Michael had laughed, all freckles and pimples and puberty. “ _You hate parties_.”

_“Yeah but… I don’t know, there might be weed or something.”_

It was more the _or something’_ s that Ray had been interested in that night. Michael had witnessed, first hand, his simple little straight-edge best friend, high out of his mind on a deadly chemical assortment that he couldn’t even list. Ray had the time of his life, and Gavin was entirely prepared to use his new found interest to his own advantage.

So they frequented the suspicious parties together. Sometimes Michael attended, more to look out of the pair of them than his own personal interest, but most nights he left them to it. His mother had expressed her concern that he spent way too much time with Gavin, and that the other boy was a _bad_ influence. So, the more Gavin and Ray got into drugs, the more Michael tried to keep his distance.

It hadn’t lasted long. Michael missed Gavin painfully, and the entertainment value of the raves was starting to wear off for the other two. Ray still went every now and then, and as he and Ryan became closer, Gavin wasn’t really necessary anymore.

So standing in the giant concrete basement parking lot, looking around at swirling coloured lights and people dressed in reflective materials with ridiculous sunglasses and lights strewn through their hair, Michael felt a stinging sense of nostalgia. Gavin’s face lit up, bathed in red, blue, green as the smile spread across his face and he waded into the crowd. He was still dressed sharply, unlike the over-casual company of Ray in cargo shorts and a hoodie and Ryan, in his same old jeans-and-t-shirt get up, but he didn’t stick out. Gavin slipped into a gaggle of girls who couldn’t have been older than eighteen before disappearing into the crowd, and he’d never been more camoflauged.

It took Michael over an hour to even _find_ him after that. Ray and Ryan were God knows where- probably fucking in the bathroom or off hallucinating in a corner, so that meant that a sober Michael had to wade through the crowds, trying to pick out his best friend. He hadn’t felt tempted to touch any hard drugs, despite the plentiful offers. He stuck with the one joint he’d brought out with him and sipped at an over-priced beer. He wasn’t even buzzed.

He would’ve probably given up and slunk off to get blackout drunk, alone, by now, but he’d promised Gavin that he’d stay over, more for his own benefit. Ryan and Ray had jumped in on the plan too- and the four of them were set to go home together. Michael didn’t have any money to just call a cab and go home. Gavin’s was the only possibility.

Michael just had to find him first.

“Hey, have you seen my friend?” he asked one girl, who looked relatively sober, compared to the other party-goers who were pretty useless. “He’s like… a little taller than me?” he gestured in the air. “Brown fucking hair that just… goes everywhere? Wearing like, a suit? Any of this sound familiar?”

“Has he got gold aviators on?”

“Yes!”

She laughed. “He’s in the magenta room. My friend just tried to hook up with him but… guess he already had someone.”

Michael’s heart increased. So Gavin _wasn’t_ hooking up with people? That was unlike him. The only thing in their lives that had changed was the fact that they’d had a somewhat serious conversation. Michael hoped that somehow, even a tiny part of him was considering _them_ as a possibility.

He was about to stop and ask her what and where exactly this “Magenta Room” was, but as she turned and left he spotted glowing pink light just past her. The small office of the parking structure had been bathed in a deep purple toned lights, and bright pink beads hung low where the door used to be. Amused by the absurdity, Michael pushed his way past the beads and looked around the room to see if Gavin was there.

He was bearish to the back, laid out flat with his head in the lap of a man Michael certainly didn’t know. He wasn’t like the usual muscled, broad guys Gavin tended to go for in his one night stands. He had a good body, Michael could imagine, but he was of relatively average height and mass, large red, white and black leather jacket covering most of his torso. His hair was shaved low, his eyes were dark and excited as he stared down at Gavin, who was grinning, before the two leaned closer together and met for a kiss.

Michael gripped his fists.

“Michael!” Gavin said up excitedly when he spotted Michael from across the room, and waved him over. “This is Joey. Joey, this is my best friend Michael.”

Between a thin ring of not-green-but-not-brown-or-blue, Gavin’s pupils were blown wide and dark, completely black in colour. Michael gritted his teeth as _Joey_ held out a hand for him to shake.

“I just thought I’d come and find you.” He muttered, ignoring the gesture. “But if you’re busy… don’t worry about it.” He trailed off, looking away, towards the floor. Gavin just continued to grin. He looked between Michael and Joey.

“Well, we were thinking of making a move anyway, weren’t we?”

“Yeah.” Joey sat up slightly, shooting a flirtatious grin at Gavin. “We were.”

“We?” Michael questioned. Gavin turned at him and nodded.

“I asked Joey if he wanted to come back with us. Is that a problem?”

Despite the more bitter and irrational part of his brain screaming that _no_ , that certainly _wouldn’t_ be okay, Michael ground his teeth harder and forced his head to shake side to side.

“Course not.” He lied. “It’s your place. Up to you.”

“Cool.” Gavin stood, pulling Joey up with him by the hand. Surprising them both, he leant forwards and kissed Michael softly on the cheek. “We’ll go find Ryan and Ray. Meet you outside?” he asked, low in Michael’s ear. Michael nodded.

“Sure.” He mumbled. “Whatever you want, Gav.”

 

 

* * *

 

 

The cab journey back was interesting enough in itself, Michael stewing silently in the front seat with his arms folded tightly as Gavin and Joey sat behind him, mumbling low to each other and playing with each other’s fingers. Ray and Ryan were behind them, making out in the back of the people-carrier that had come to collect them. At least nothing was new there.

They stumbled into Gavin’s building as a collective group, and only as the elevator shot up did Michael realise just how drunk he was. After Gavin and Joey had disappeared to “find Ray and Ryan” for over an hour, he’d demolished four drinks that he’d foolishly taken from a guy at the bar with a wicked grin and a predatory glint in his eye. It didn’t occur to Michael until after Ryan had dragged him away from the guys grabby hands that he’d probably been spiked, but he supposed he deserved it for not being on his guard enough.

Ray and Ryan bid their goodnight post haste, shrugging out of their jackets and shoes before running off, giggling in the direction of the guest bedroom. Gavin didn’t say anything, just winked at Michael before disappearing off in the other direction with Joey, toward his own bedroom.

“Night dude.” Joey waved at him. Michael didn’t hold back his scowl, before stumbling over to the couch.

He sat there for a while, alone. The silence was unnerving at first, so he got up and delved through Gavin’s fathers extensive, expensive record collection. However, after fifteen minutes or so of searching, sounds trickled into the room from down the halls.

There was the slapping of a headrest against a wall coming from the direction Ray and Ryan had run off too, but Michael had probably heard the two have sex so many times already that it didn’t faze him in the slightest. The walls of the apartment were pretty thick, but every so often he head the tell-tale sound of one of Ray’s shrill moans or Ryan’s throaty grunts. That really didn’t bother him.

It was only when, underneath the suffocating music of Ryan and Ray having sex, he caught noises from the other direction. It wasn’t anything too explicit, just the shifting of someone moving on a bed, the sound of a giggle, probably Gavin’s, floating past the walls. Kissing. Wet, ugly kissing.

Michael sat and stewed. The alcohol and drugs in his system only made the rage worse, so it seemed, and he felt as if his whole chest was on fire. He couldn’t just sit there, listening to Gavin and another random stranger and pretend it didn’t _hurt_. So, instead of sitting and stewing for a second longer, Michael stood, and stormed off in the direction of Gavin’s room.

He threw the door open, met with the sight of both Gavin and Joey devoid of clothes bar their underwear. Gavin was laid out on the bed, face down, as Joey hovered above him and kissed up his neck. However, when the door swung open and Michael’s heavy breathing became apparent, they both turned. Joey looked annoyed. Gavin looked passive, disinterested at most.

“Dude, what the fuck?”

“Yeah…” Gavin smirked, dipping his head lower so the sharp bones of his shoulder blades extended like wings, ready to fly. His tone was teasing, and it only made Michael’s heart hurt more. “Knock much?”

“I’m sorry, okay? But I just… I cant.” Michael took a step forwards in the doorway. Gavin’s soft, teasing façade slipped and his face was pressed into a neat line. Now, apparently, he was irritated. Joey sat up so he was on his knees, frowning in Michael’s direction.

“Dude, unless this is turning into a threesome- get out.” He pointed to the door. Michael shook his head.

“No way.” He said, looking over from Joey back to Gavin. “Gav, look, we have to talk about this okay. We have to talk about Halloween and when I kissed you.”

Joey held his hands up. “You know what, I don’t need this. Sorry.” He stood up from the bed, leaning over to pick up his clothes before barging past Michael and storming out the room. Michael didn’t even react as Joey’s body caused him to stumble backwards slightly. He closed the door behind him, and Gavin’s glare worsened as he pulled himself up into a kneeling position. Michael took another daring few steps forwards.

“Please?” he asked, voice almost a whisper. “Gav,” he reached out, fingers splaying over Gavin’s shoulder and squeezing lightly. Gavin looked away, but didn’t shrug him off. Michael took that as a good sign. “Let’s talk about this. Me and you. Are we… could we ever, like, _be_ anything?”

“What’s the point?” Gavin’s voice was flat. He looked up at Michael and his eyes were all but dead. “What’s the point of just hooking up a few times until we get bored of each other, eh? To ruin out whole friendship, _years_ of work?”

“It wouldn’t be like that,” Michael tried to argue, but he’d be lying if he said Gavin’s point hadn’t crossed his mind either. The only difference was that he was willing to try. Gavin didn’t seem to think the same way. “We could… try?”

“So I’m just supposed to be prepared to lose you in a year’s time, maybe two, if we’re lucky?” Gavin asked with a bitter, breathy laugh. “All for what? Sex? Sex isn’t worth that.” He hung his head. “What’s the point?”

Michael frowned. He moved his hand from Gavin’s shoulder, further up, into his hair. He forced Gavin to turn his head, to look at him. He wasn’t going to have this conversation with one chiselled cheekbone because Gavin wasn’t man enough to look him in the eye. “The point is, I _love_ you, you fuck!”

Gavin laughed. He chuckled, right in Michael’s face. “Sex isn’t worth love, Michael.” He said, shaking his head. Michael sucked in a sharp breath.

Then, he leant forwards and pressed his lips to Gavin’s. Gavin didn’t resist for a second, allowing Michael to tilt his head back, push kisses down his neck, into his throat. He didn’t flinch when Michael’s free hand came down, cupping his waist as he climbed onto the bed and pressed them both together. He laid, waiting, as Michael leaned back and stripped out of his t-shirt and jeans. He welcomed Michael’s lips on his again, and arched his back against the bed as Michael’s fingers played in the waistband of his boxers.

And then, just as Michael was about to push for just an inch more, he laid a hand on his chest and shoved him away.

Michael leant up off Gavin, confused, frowning. Gavin didn’t even look back up at him. He just ducked out from underneath his arm, reached onto the floor for his t-shirt and pulled it on over his head. He ignored Michael, calling his name, apologising, asking for him to come back. He just carried on towards the door, opened it, and stepped through, leaving Michael behind, all alone in Gavin’s bed.

For a few minutes, Michael waited for him to return. When it became evident that he wasn’t going to, Michael rolled over and laid his face in Gavin’s pillow, burying it as deep as possible, before letting out a deafening sob.


	6. PART SIX

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One month passes. Michael makes some big decisions.

PART SIX

 

 

_One Month Later_

 

 

It was a strange feeling, showing up outside Lindsay’s apartment with a six-pack of beers and his extra GameCube controller without the previous weighty implications of their relationship hanging over his shoulders. They’d actually been working really hard recently on the whole _remaining friends_ part of the break-up, and it had actually been _working_. It sort-of reminded Michael in a way of the lingering warmth he’d felt when they’d first met. He and Lindsay had always been the best of friends. Their relationship status couldn’t change that.

“Dude, Mario Party _and_ beer? You sure know how to show a girl a good time.”

Lindsay was exactly the same as she’d always been. Same warm smile, same red hair, full fringe, round cheeks. Same manic laughter, same poor game-based decision making skills, same lewd jokes and over-friendliness. Sitting on the opposite side of her blue-and-black stained couch, Michael felt as comfortable as he ever had done being there, three beers, twelve rounds deep.

She waited till the thirteenth round before bringing up the dreaded topic of everyone’s favourite British train-wreck.

“How is he?”

Michael sucked in a sharp breath. It was a very loaded question. On one hand, he hadn’t spoken to Gavin in well over a month since the catastrophic events that followed the last group outing. On the other hand, CNN had given him plenty of information as his late father’s trial went on and on. In addition to that, Geoff texted him with updates regularly.

“Don’t know, don’t care.” He settled on lying, before taking a large drink from his beer. Lindsay raised an eyebrow at him, disbelieving of his shit. She’d always been far too good when it came to seeing through his lies. Michael wondered why it took her so long to dump him.

He gritted his teeth. “All I know is that his father’s only legit bank account finally got turned over into his name. He inherited twenty.”

“Twenty thousand?”

Michael scoffed. “Twenty million, Lindsay. I mean after legal fees and funeral costs and compensation it will probably go down, dramatically, but he’ll still be left with northwards of fifteen million. More than enough to keep himself alive in that shit hole apartment for the rest of his days.”

“Jesus.” She breathed. Michael threw out a shrug.

“Sucks, I know, but…” he trailed off, running a stray hand through his hair. “I don’t really know much other than that. Gavin and I… we don’t really talk anymore.”

Michael refused to meet Lindsay’s eyes after the admission. If he had, that would’ve been it. She would’ve known everything, in a single look, and he wasn’t really ready for that.

“That’s a shame.” She said quietly. Michael didn’t look up. “I always thought you were really good together.”

“Really?” he couldn’t help but let out a bitter laugh. Here was his ex-girlfriend, the girl who he’d once been sure he was going to _marry_ , telling him that he and Gavin were fucking _good together_ , when that was the exact reason she’d dumped him in the first place. It was so surreal, Michael had to wrack his brains and make sure neither of them were on drugs. But then, that was unlikely. Without Gavin around, he hadn’t seen the appeal so recently.

“Really.” Lindsay laughed, but it wasn’t bitter. It was soft, kind, reassuring. Michael hated the sound because he knew the same as she did. He and Gavin, of course, were fucking made for each other. Apparently. That’s what made things so difficult in the first place. “Hope you work it out.”

“Whatever.” He brushed her remarks off, did his best not to dwell on the painful for too long. Instead, he nodded towards the screen. “It’s your turn.”

 

* * *

 

 

Michael frowned as an unfamiliar cell number flashed across his screen. It wasn’t often someone phoned him who he didn’t already know, and in general, phone calls as of recent had been scarce. He barely even spoke to his own friends, let alone strangers. Occasionally at a bar he’d slip his number across the counter to a suit or a pushy chick, but they never usually called. He didn’t exactly reek desperation in that way New York people were attracted to.

He frowned, wiping the sweat from his brow. The gym had been his most recent place of refuge, favouring the bar on nights when it got too lonely inside his quiet apartment. He stepped off the running machine and slipped the phone out of his arm cuff.

“Hello?”

“ _Is that Michael Jones?”_

Michael frowned. The voice wasn’t one he recognised, and even to random hook-ups, he never often gave out his full name.

“Uh, yeah. Who’s this?”

_“My name is Burnie Burns and I work for a company called Rooster Teeth. Your buddy Geoff gave me this number and said I could contact you, I hope that’s okay?”_

“Holy shit-” Michael mumbled, cutting himself off a second too late. Thankfully, Burnie Burns laughed down the phone. Still, the mention of Geoff had Michael perplexed. What on earth did he have to do with Rooster Teeth?

Michael knew Rooster Teeth. They were a pretty prominent company in making video games that weren’t big triple A sell-out farces. The kind of games Michael actually _enjoyed_ playing, with half decent storylines and interesting innovations of gameplay.

 _“I’m guessing you’ve heard of us_?”

Michael scoffed. “Yeah, I’ve heard of you. Shit- I mean, damn, uh… what’s up?”

_“I want to offer you a position, developing video games in my studio out in Austin, Texas. Would you maybe be interested in something like that?”_

As his heart sunk to the pit of his stomach, Michael had to remind himself to breath. Making Video Games- _playing_ video games, and getting paid for it? It didn’t really sound much better than that. A large part of his mind suspected it was some kind of trap to lure millennials like himself into low-paying gigs cross-country with little more to show for it by the end than a paragraph on his resume, but a smaller part, the childish youthful glint of hope wondered if it was his golden ticket to make a new life away from the city.

“Uh, maybe.” He answered, trying to play it cool. “I’d have to think about it. Once I had all the facts.”

_“Are you free tomorrow, around midday? I could call then and we could go through the logistics of this position?”_

Michael swallowed around the lump in his throat and for one, split second, thought of Gavin. Would he be okay with Michael just upping and moving cross-county? _Fuck him_ \- he had to remind himself, shaking his head. _Gavin doesn’t give a shit. You haven’t heard from him in weeks. This has nothing to do with him_.

“Sure.” He said to Burnie Burns, CEO of The Rooster-Teeth fucking Gaming Corporation. “I’m free tomorrow.”

 

* * *

 

 

“How often are we going to do this?”

Michael was somewhat startled by the question Geoff put forward to him across the table, their usual- steak and fries- sat between them. Geoff hadn’t touched his whiskey. Michael had finished half of his beer.

“Do what?” he tried to sound nonchalant. Geoff rolled his eyes.

“Emergency meeting because you’re shitting your pants about moving on with things? Yes, I know Burnie called you. Yes, I have ties to Rooster Teeth- I’m actually one of the fuckers who helped found it, thanks for never asking.” He stabbed at a bleeding chunk of medium-rare steak with his fork, and slipped it into his mouth, chewing heartily. “Yes, he asked me about a position and I put your name forwards and _yes_ , I one hundred percent think you should go for it.”

“ _Really?_ ” Michael couldn’t help but frown, staring at his own untouched meal. “ _Me_? Fucking designing _Video Games?_ Geoff- I don’t know the first fucking thing about designing _Video Games-_ ”

“-Don’t put yourself down.” Geoff frowned. “You’re talented Michael. And it’s not just designing games that Rooster Teeth do these days. They’re looking to expand their entertainment sectors and I told Burnie about your idea for those _Let’s Play_ things-”

“-that was a dumb idea I thought up after drinking too much fucking _Malibu-”_

“-Regardless, it was smart.” Geoff glared. “He liked it. That’s what they want you to do- but fuck, you don’t need me to tell you that. He said he spent an hour with you on the phone yesterday morning and you sounded more than fucking eager. So do you want to take your dick out of your pants and tell me what’s really going on?”

After frowning for a few seconds at the inappropriate and confusing metaphor, Michael leant back against the stiff restaurant chair and sighed. He picked up a fry and, despite the fact that all food was starting to loose flavour to him, tossed it into his mouth.

“it’s Gavin-”

“-of course it’s Gavin.” Geoff laughed, more meat clogging his mouth and muffling his words. “When is it _anything_ else?”

“Can I really do that?” Michael did his best to ignore the teasing in Geoff’s tone. “Just… fucking leave New York when things are the way they are? I don’t know if I can...” he reached forwards, rolling the beer around by the base on the table without bothering to lift it and drink. “I don’t know if I can just leave him.” He added, quieter.

It was Geoff’s turn to sigh. “Look, kid, I’m gonna give you some advice here.”

Michael snorted. “No shit.”

“Shut up-” Geoff pointed, not maliciously, but close enough to make his heart rate spike a little, with the serrated steak knife. “I want you to do this, Michael. Go out and fucking get the recognition you deserve for all that intellect in your thick skull. I’ll admit, for a second there, I really did think you and Gav were going to make something. Things didn’t work out that way, and that sucks- but sitting here and wishing it was different isn’t going to do shit but leave you both upset. So if it takes moving across the country and getting a fresh start to be the step towards getting that kid back to normal, than so be it. I’m not saying he won’t miss you terribly- because he will- but he’ll get over it. He’s tougher than you give him credit for.”

“I know he is.” Michael sighed. “I know, but I don’t ever say. Gav’s tougher than all of us- and maybe it’s not him I’m worried about leaving. Maybe, you know...” he trailed off, glancing out of the window and onto the busy New York City sidewalk. “…it’s just me. Scared of being without him.”

“You’re better than that, Michael.” Came Geoff’s reply, a few silent seconds later. “You’re just as good, with or without him and I only want the best for the both of you. Promise me you’ll think about it? At least?” he sighed.

Michael looked down at his untouched stake, and hesitantly, went forwards with his knife and fork to cut a sizeable piece.

“I’ll think about it.” He said, before drawing the meat up to his lips. The taste was _divine_.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

The rain rattled against his umbrella as Michael stood at distance from the sea of reporters outside the courtroom beside Ryan, Ray and Jack. Geoff, thanks to his influential family name, was right at the side of the stage, providing Gavin with some moral support via proximity alone. Not that he acknowledged it much, stood silently on the stage as his lawyer read out a prepared statement.

Hands shaking, Michael lit a cigarette. Today was the day of Gavin’s father’s trail. It didn’t matter that they hadn’t been talking- it didn’t even matter that Michael was planning to surprise Gavin with the news that he was moving hundreds of miles across the country- he had to be there. He promised Gavin and himself that he’d always be there.

“No more questions, thank you.” The lawyer said, before leading Gavin off stage. Michael caught a glimpse of him falling into Geoff’s waiting embrace, before the two rushed off into a car together before the paparazzi had a chance to chase them.

“C’mon.” Jack spun the keys to his own car around his finger. “Time for a family dinner.”

Family dinners were a rare occasion. It wasn’t often they could all decide on a type of food they wanted to eat- Ray and Ryan liked ordering greasy Chinese food and Geoff always wanted something fancy that Gavin despised due to eccentric flavours and questionable ingredients. Jack was content with a fat Home Slice pizza and Michael had grown up far too poor to ever be fussy.

But Gavin had splashed out with a mixed buffet of all their favourite foods. Michael spotted his absolute favourite, Lasagne with hot sauce, sat in the centre of the table as he sat down, dead opposite his so-called best-friend who had yet to look him in the eyes once that afternoon.

“How is life?” Gavin asked without looking up at him, but it was fairly clear to the table who the question was directed at. “You know, as you haven’t bothered showing your face around here in so long.”

“Nothing crazy.” Michael gritted his teeth, reaching across to spoon macaroni cheese onto his plate. “You know, just the usual.”

“Well, that isn’t entirely true-”

“-Shut up Geoff.” Michael cut him off, and three other pairs of eyes flew to him, confused. Michael didn’t have the energy to try and explain to Ryan, Ray and Jack the nature of his newest position with Rooster Teeth. Aside from Geoff, he hadn’t told a single soul. He wasn’t even sure if he was taking the job yet.

Geoff glared at him, but kept his mouth shut for then.

“How are you feeling, Gav?” Ryan thankfully broke the awkward silence. Gavin kept his gaze on his place, and prodded at a piece of orange chicken with his fork. “You did really well at the hearing.”

“I didn’t do anything.” He shrugged. “It was all that _reptile_ Carson’s idea. No wonder he was dad’s favourite- saved him half the fortune, even in death.”

“Jim Carson is very good at his job.” Jack said. “Things could’ve been a lot worse. You could’ve lost everything.”

A frown spread across Gavin’s face. “I don’t care about the money.” He mumbled. “I never did. It was never mine. I guess it was never his either.” He finally lifted his head up, and Michael didn’t miss the way his eyes darted over to a small, framed photo of his father over on top of the piano. It was the only photo in the whole house that hadn’t been stuffed into a drawer weeks ago. Michael swallowed his food awkwardly.

“At least it’s over now.” He said. “We can all… move on with our lives.”

“That’s a great idea.” Geoff locked eyes with him across the table. “Moving on, starting afresh. New career?”

The table shook as Michael kicked Geoff underneath it. Gavin glared between them both, confused.

“What on earth are you two playing at?”

Geoff clenched his jaw. “Michael’s got something to announce to the group.”

“No I don’t-”

“-Yes, he does. It’s something we should all be very proud of.”

“Is this a sex thing?” Ray asked. Michael hoped he was just trying to lighten the mood and wasn’t actually serious. Gavin, thankfully, didn’t pay him any attention.

“I got a new job. It’s no big deal.” Michael mumbled into his macaroni. “Well- I got offered a new job. Like I said, it’s not a big-”

“-What’s the job?” Gavin asked. Michael avoided his eyes.

“It’s like… video game designing and testing and… promoting, I guess? Making videos about video games so people are interested in them and stuff.” He did his best to downplay how fucking awesome the package Burnie had sold him from Rooster Teeth sounded, but every pair of eyes around the table that weren’t belonging to one Gavin Free lit up with excitement. “Only thing is…” he tacked on the end, forcing himself to glance up at Gavin, no matter how painful it felt when the two caught eyes for the first time in what felt like forever. “…it’s in Texas.”

Silence fell around the table.

“Oh,” Gavin eventually said. A crisp leaf of lettuce was pushed into his mouth. “Pity that.” _Crunch_. “Shame you can’t take it then.” _Crunch._ “Sounds like it would’ve been mint.” _Swallow._

Michael frowned at him. That was the last thing he was expecting- for Gavin to just fucking _assume_ he hadn’t taken the job. How could he possibly know the inner depths of Michael’s decisions when he didn’t know them himself? Did Gavin really know him that well? Michael guessed so. Perhaps he really was that predictable.

“Actually, uh, I took it.” He sat up a little straighter, no longer afraid to look straight ahead. It was Gavin’s turn to avoid his eye, as his fork slipped from between his hands and clattered against the fine china plate. His jaw clenched, and his fingers flexed uncomfortably. For a second, Michael could’ve sworn his eyes were welling up too.

His question was asked slowly, purposefully. “You’re moving… to Texas?”

The silence that vibrated around them then was suffocating. Michael couldn’t take his eyes of Gavin, who was staring at him with a wide-eyed disbelief. Unblinking, unbreathing even- and every second longer that their eye contact held, Michael felt his heart break just a little more. Everyone else around the table remained still and quiet. Everyone, that was, except for Geoff, who stood up abruptly, letting his chair screech against the hardwood floor.

“Well, I think that congratulations are in order!” he said, walking over to fiddle with the record player that sat on the cabinet behind them. “It’s a great opportunity.” He spun one sleek, black vinyl that had belonged to Gavin’s father between his fingers and slipped it into the record player. Brash, classic jazz blared from the speaker.

Jack clenched his fork in his fist, and narrowed his eyes in Geoff’s direction.

“Is now _really_ the time for this?” he asked. Geoff threw his hands up.

“Yeah, it fucking is!” he all but yelled. Gavin’s eyes didn’t move from Michael’s. “Michael’s got an awesome offer, so let’s put on some fucking music. Let’s celebrate!”

“Geoff-” Ryan started to protest, but he was cut off by Gavin, who stood suddenly and cleared his throat, breaking contact with Michael all together.

“It’s fine.” He muttered, chest heaving slightly. His eyes were fixed on the glass dish of mac and cheese on the table. “Put something on. I’m… I’m just gonna go out for a fag.”

He pushed himself away from the table, and rushed of in an instant. He wasn’t headed towards the balcony. Michael sucked in a pained breath, and rose slowly as the other’s watched him. Geoff hung his head and the music continued to play around them.

“I’ll go after him.” Michael began jogging towards the door, but he stopped in the doorway and looked over at Geoff, still awkwardly tapping his fingers against the record player to the fast beat of the song. He didn’t need to say anything. He just shook his head gently and then headed out to the bathroom where he was almost certain Gavin was hiding.

 

 

* * *

 

 

The bathroom door was locked, but of course, locked doors didn’t faze Michael much anymore.

He dropped to his knees instantly, fishing around in his pickpocket for the hairpin he still carried around due to Gavin’s skittishness and Ryan’s sketchy life lessons. It barely took him a few minutes to jimmy the door open, the sounds of Gavin’s quiet whimpering on the other side only urging him to go faster. He could also hear the others, muttering together back in the other room. They were probably quite worried, which Michael couldn’t understand, but they couldn’t help. They just didn’t know Gavin like he did.

The door clicked, before swinging open and Michael lifted his eyes to meet the crouched figure of Gavin, knees hugged to his chest, face buried in his lap on the floor of the shower. At least this time, the water hadn’t been on.

“Oh, Gav.” Michael sighed, before rising to his feet and stepping into the room, closing the door behind him. Gavin was crying- and doing a miserable job at hiding it too, shoulders shaking as he wrapped his arms tighter around his bony, long legs as he tucked his head further and further in.

“I’m fine.” It was a choked mumble, muffled mostly by the vice-like grip he had of himself. Michael bit his lip before advancing slowly, slipping into the shower and squeezing himself into the small space Gavin had left between himself and the wall. It forced Gavin to nudge over slightly, which thankfully he did, but he didn’t look up.

“Gavin, listen-”

“-I don’t need your pity, Michael.” Gavin raised his head, and rubbed his red eyes with the back of his sleeve. “And I certainly don’t need you to lie to me.” he looked away into the corner of the room at nothing in particular, adamant not to meet Michael’s eyes and catch the small smile on his lips.

“Gavin. Listen to me for once in your fucking life.” He said with a short laugh. Gavin narrowed his eyes.

“Why should I?”

“Because,” Michael breathed, resting his head back against the cool tiles. It was a decision that had been brewing in his mind for the past few weeks, but this moment here with Gavin beside him finally made it concrete. Michael knew exactly what he wanted- he’d always known, really. “I changed my mind.” He said. “I’m not going to Austin after all. Texas sucks anyway. It’s… hot all the time and… I don’t know, probably super racist.” He finished with a shrug of his shoulders, trying his best to look nonchalant as Gavin turned to look at him, slowly, a completely puzzled look taking over his face.

“What?” Michael scoffed. “I got something on my face?”

“You should go.” Gavin said. “Michael…I-I can’t believe you’d just throw away-”

“-Gavin,” Michael cut him off with a smirk. “Read my lips. I changed my fucking _mind_. What’s your problem with that? I thought… well, I thought you were making it very clear that _you_ didn’t want me to go either.”

Relaxing against the wall slightly, Gavin closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Then he shook his head, and turned to look at Michael again.

“I just want you to be happy. With or without me.” he whispered. “That’s why I think you should go. I’ll only make you miserable if we keep at it like this.”

At that, Michael was completely stunned. It was the first selfless thing he’d ever heard come out from Gavin’s quivering jaw.

In all the years they’d known each other, Michael had always been the one sacrificing himself for Gavin’s. And in all those years, Gavin had always been the one who just _expected_ things to be sacrificed for him. Gavin used people to his benefit- close friends included. Of course, it made a difference if he liked you a little more than he liked the string of empty names and faces he got what he wanted from, but the point still remained. Gavin didn’t do things to help other people feel good. Gavin’s main focus was always himself.

And then here he was. Sat with his legs to his chest with tear tracks on his cheeks, looking besides him at Michael with a glowing in his eyes that looked to the untrained eye like it could maybe even be _love._

Could it have been? Michael wasn’t sure he’d ever seen Gavin love another person; Gavin only loved things, not _people._ Michael was always the one who had loved, and he’d lost every time. He’d lost Lindsay. He’d lost himself. He’d almost lost Gavin too- just for a second.

One thing he hadn’t lost, however, was hope. And if that existed, still, despite all the hurt and hate that had embarked its way through his chest and across his heart over the last however many weeks, months, years it had been he’d been pining over Gavin then maybe- just maybe, there was a chance that the plethora of emotions that swelled in his chest every time he looked at that terrified, broken boy was reciprocated in it’s whole.

“Gavin, I’m not happy if I’m not with you!” he said, voice shaking only slightly. He hoped Gavin wouldn’t notice. “Nothing’s changed. I still… I still _love_ you.”

It was Gavin’s turn to look surprise then, and privately Michael wondered if all the doubts he’d been feeling hadn’t been his alone to worry over. Because sure, Gavin had done plenty of things to make Michael _think_ he wasn’t interested- but Gavin also had the self-deprecating tendency to push away the things that actually made him _feel_.

It dawned on Michael the instant Gavin leaned in, but stopped when their lips were only a few, desperate centimetres apart from each other.

He was afraid. Afraid that he _really, genuinely_ didn’t deserve it.

Michael didn’t hesitate before pushing himself forwards, pressing his lips against Gavin’s with heat and desperation and emotion. The tears clinging behind his eyelids slipped free once his eyes were squeezed shut but he didn’t think Gavin minded the slight wet against his face when he was holding onto Michael for dear life with his arms wrapped around broad shoulders, as Michael pressed back into him and grabbed him at his skinny sides. He could feel the outline of Gavin’s ribs through even his neatly pressed jacket, and that only reminded Michael further that he really had made the right decision, and he’d made it a long time ago.

In the terms of the case everything was more than said and done. But that didn’t mean that the fall out wouldn’t be plentiful. And it certainly didn’t mean that Gavin wasn’t still hurting- and still in need of someone to look after him until he learned how to look after himself.

He could feel Gavin’s heartbeat, hammering as fast as a hummingbirds against his chest, and the feeling only made Michael grip onto him tighter before pulling away, placing one last delicate peck to Gavin’s half-opened, dazed mouth.

Then, he rested back against the wall of the shower. After a few seconds, Gavin shifted, and did the same so that they were besides each other, with the cool tile wall behind them. Michael crept his fingers across the gap between them and rested his hand over Gavin’s, before holding onto it tightly. Gavin turned his hand over, palm up, and wrapped their fingers together.

“You know.” He said, looking down at their hands entwined before looking back up at Michael, eyes wide and sparkling. “When you stop loving me, you’re going to realise what a terrible mistake this all is.”

Michael smiled brightly in response, and brought Gavin’s hands up to his lips.

“I’ll take the risk” he whispered, before kissing the skin softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next up, epilogue! Hope you've all enjoyed this story so far.


	7. epilogue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's so late, but here's the end of Michael and Gavin's story. Hope you enjoyed the ride!

EPILOGUE

 

 

 

 

 

Jack went first.

After Michael’s rejection of Rooster Teeth’s offer, of course, they set their sights elsewhere. Burnie had made it very clear to Michael, that there always would be space for him on the team- if he ever felt like taking it. Michael didn’t tell Gavin that part, but Gavin was usually clever enough to work these things out for himself. Michael had already decided he didn’t need a fancy new job and a giant house out in the sticks of Texas. He was perfectly happy with Gavin, himself, and the dark little universe they co-inhabited

But then _Jack_ got the job. Then Caiti moved to a children’s hospital in Texas, twenty minutes away from the Rooster Teeth offices. Then Geoff got Griffon pregnant- and they decided that New York City maybe wasn’t the best place to start a family after all. Then Burnie heard from Geoff that Ryan had a degree in animation. Then, after weeks and months of pleading, Ray realised that maybe Rooster Teeth had something to offer him too- even if it was just a stepping stone to the streaming career that he _actually_ wanted.

And that left Gavin and Michael alone. They were alone together- they would always be together – but alone nonetheless. Michael thought he was used to being alone with Gavin, but once their support network of friends turned family had left, one by one, things began to change. Gavin couldn’t run to Ray and Ryan when Michael’s selflessness terrified him and Michael couldn’t go for emergency steak dinners whenever he got scared because Geoff lived ten minutes away and always paid off the tab.

Burnie called up, the month after Ray and Ryan made the big move, and reminded him that there was always a spot for him on the team. Geoff was running Achievement Hunter now. Geoff could always make space, for the both of them.

 _“I know you want this Michael_.” It was odd, how in such a short time, Burnie had come to know him so well. They actually talked a lot. “ _I really think it would be a great opportunity for you. Gav too. Try talking to him. Things might work out better than you think_ ”

Michael bit his lip and sighed. “I’ll think about it.” He said, but it felt like a lie.

“I’ll think about it.” He said to Ray over Xbox live that night as his best friend gushed about his and Ryan’s giant apartment and some barbeque place called _Rudy’s_ that they just _had_ to try when they came down to visit.

“I’ll think about it.” He promised Geoff, over text, phone angled just away from Gavin’s disinterested gaze as he laid his head in Michael’s lap and purred, satisfied, as blunt calloused fingers stroked their way through silky brown hair.

“I’ve been thinking…” he said to Gavin on their six-month-anniversary. They went back to the steakhouse. Gavin, apparently, had never been.

He was oddly chipper, giving a light scoff and a playful eye-roll in response. “Oh really? Don’t strain yourself.” In recent weeks, Gavin had actually seemed a whole lot happier. Michael wasn’t sure what it was exactly, but one morning he padded, barefoot, into the main room of the gloomy apartment and had been assaulted by sunlight. Gavin was stood before him, heavy curtains pulled aside and tied behind the installed rings, facing the window, watching the narrow stream of sunlight that crept through between the other towerblocks that surrounded them.

“Spit it out then.”

Michael swallowed thickly.

“I’ve been talking to Geoff a lot.” He started, voice shaking only slightly. “And uh, Ray and Ryan and Jack. And, uh… Burnie got in touch with me again actually. They’re all having a fucking blast down in Austin.” He twirled his fork around the bowl, and his stomach flipped and flopped with nerves. He regretted ordering pasta now instead of steak. The spaghetti was starting to look like wriggling worms in a sea of tomato-blood.

“Yeah, I know.” Gavin was unfazed, sipping from a tall glass of beer. Actually, Michael had noticed, over the past few weeks he’d really been laying off the hard drinking, sticking to softer drinks like wine and beer. “I speak to them all too, you know. Even Burnie.”

At that, Michael raised an eyebrow.

“How do _you_ know Burnie?”

Gavin laughed, like it was _so_ obvious. “Dude, I’ve known Geoff since I was sixteen. Did you really think I didn’t know Burnie and Gus and Matt and Joel too? I think Joel gave me my first cigarette, for fucks sake.”

“Oh.” Michael set his fork down on the table. It shocked him every day, how so completely he thought he knew Gavin never being anywhere near the truth. There was always an extra detail that he’d never quite figured out- but they’d both been working on being more open with each other, as of recent. “I guess I never thought of it that way.”

“This steak is the absolute dogs _bollocks_. Why did Geoff never take me here?” Gavin marvelled as he stabbed at a bloody chunk of meat on his plate. He always ate his steak rare- almost blue- and it made Michael’s stomach turn. Still- at least Gavin was eating again. He’d become awfully thin at one point earlier in the year, but over the last month or so he’d really begun to fill out again, colour returning to his cheeks, ribs less visible and bulging beneath the confines of his skin.

Michael’s tongue burned inside his mouth. He wasn’t sure how much longer they could skirt around the obvious. Gavin was too clever for that. If he hadn’t already (which was a definite possibility) he’d figure out what Michael was angling for sooner or later. They’d always been good at reading each other. Or, at least, Gavin had always been able to read Michael.

“I want to move to Austin.” He said, and it felt as if the whole restaurant fell silent around them. “I…I want to work for Rooster Teeth. Hang out with our friends. Make a life there. But… Gavin… I-I can’t do that, any of it, without you. I know you love New York and you’re still hurt about, well, everything but- I really think that maybe, if you gave it a chance we could- we could like, have a life together… you know? Don’t you think that just maybe-”

“-Okay.” Gavin cut him off midsentence, and Michael felt his heart sink to his stomach before leaping back up, hammering in his chest. His eyebrows had skyrocketed up his forehead. His palms were sweaty.

“O-Okay?” he stuttered. “What the fuck do you mean _okay_?”

Gavin chewed and swallowed another bite of steak, thoughtful, but passive. “I mean okay,” he shrugged. “Let’s do it. You and me, Austin. I told you before Michael- all I want is for you to be happy-”

“-but Gavin I can’t be happy if you’re _miserable-_ ”

“-Yeah, you dunce, and _you_ make me happy!” Gavin let out a laugh, and Michael’s insides glowed. “Have you still not _realised_?”

“But I know how hard it is for you-”

“-and _you_ make me better.” At that, Gavin reached across the table, and grabbed Michael’s hand until their fingers fell together. He squeezed softly, and the pair locked eyes across the table. “Michael I know I’ve been so awful since… well… everything. And I know I made it seem like I didn’t care and… for a while I really didn’t think I’d ever _feel_ better but… you’ve helped me so much. You’re everything to me and… I know I don’t say it nearly enough, but I really do love you, Michael. I’d follow you to the end of the earth if you wanted.”

It was like the Hoover dam had busted, and gallons of love and emotion had spilled out from Gavin’s pretty green eyes and his soft, pink lips in a suffocating tidal wave, smashing itself into Michael’s face until the whole restaurant was submerged. It was odd to think- but until that moment, Michael had never been truly sure if Gavin _did_ love him. Now he realised it was more than even that. Gavin loved _him_. Gavin loved _them_.

He squeezed Gavin’s hand so tightly, the Brit yelped across the table and pulled back with a laugh. Michael snatched his hand back and drew it to his lips, kissing across the top of his knuckle gently.

“Let’s do it then.” He said quietly. “Let’s fucking move to Austin, London, Paris- I don’t fucking care. As long as it’s me and it’s you Gav. Forever. I love you.”

“I love you too.” Gavin grinned. “Glad that’s settled. You’ve been tiptoeing around how to ask me for _months_!”

“Oh, so you noticed?”

“Of _course_ I bloody noticed! I know you, you _dunce_. Now can we please go back to our nice dinner and then go home and fuck until we can’t walk?”

Michael didn’t care that they were in public, in a _very_ classy restaurant. He didn’t even care that the passing waiter had given them a _very_ pointed glare before tutting disapprovingly. He didn’t care that his spaghetti was cold and Gavin’s fries probably were to.

“I fucking love you, you ass.” He shook his head, still laughing. “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

In response, Gavin raised his glass in toast and nodded for Michael to do the same.

“To Austin?” he suggested. Michael shook his head.

“To us.” He beamed, and Gavin’s wild grin matched.

“To _us_.”


End file.
